*. 


THE  PROSPECTOR 


Special  Limited  Edition 


THE  PROSPECTOR 


A  TALE  OF  THE  CROW'S  NEST  PASS 


BY 

RALPH     CONNOR 

C  /  t  -rt  . 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  SKY  PILOT,*'  "BLACK  ROCK, 

**THE    MAN    FROM    GLENGARRY,*' 

"GLENGARRY  SCHOOL  DAVE." 


GROSSET     &     DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW   YORK 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago :  63  Washington  Street 
Toronto:  27  Richmond  Street,  W, 
London :  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  30  St.  Mary's  Street 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  A  SOCIAL  IMPOSSIBILITY 11 

II.  'VARSITY  VERSUS  McGiLL    ....».»..  24 

III.  THE  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 55 

IV.  ONLY  ONE  CLAIM 62 

V.  "  YEA,  AND  His  OWN  LIFE  ALSO  " 83 

VI.  ON  THE  TRAIL 103 

VII.  THE  OUTPOST 121 

VIII.  THE  OLD  PROSPECTOR 133 

IX.  TIM  CARROLL .146 

X.  THE  TURF  MEET 164 

XI.  "I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  AND  YE  TOOK  MB  IN"  .    .  180 

XII.  His  KEEPER 197 

XIII.  THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON  .    .    .    e    .    .  215 

XIV.  OLD  PROSPECTOR'S  AWAKING    ........  234 

XV.  EJECTED  AND  REJECTED 263 


247959 


CONTENTS 

XVI.  "STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD" 290 

XVII.  BETTY'S  LAST  WORDS 312 

XVHI.  THE  DON'S  RECOVERY 331 

XIX.  THE  REGION  BEYOND 353 

XX.  THE  NEW  POLICY 377 

XXI.  THE  WAITING  GAME  .  391 


THE    PROSPECTOR 


A    SOCIAL    IMPOSSIBILITY 

IT  was  one  of  November's  rare  days.  The  kindly 
air,  vital  with  the  breath  of  the  north  wind  and 
mellow  with  the  genial  sun,  was  full  of  purple 
haze;  the  grass,  still  vividly  green,  gave  no  hint 
of  the  coming  winter;  the  trees,  bony  and  bare  but 
for  a  few  rags  of  summer  dress,  russet-brown  and 
gold,  stood  softened  of  all  their  harshness  m  the 
purple  haze  and  slanting,  yellow  light  of  the  autumn 
afternoon.  Nature  wore  a  face  of  content.  She  had 
fulfilled  her  course  for  another  year,  and,  satisfied 
with  her  achievement,  was  obviously  thinking  of 
settling  herself  into  her  winter's  sleep. 

It  was  a  good  day  to  be  alive.  The  tingle  in 
the  air  somehow  got  into  the  blood, 

So  it  felt  to  a  young  girl  who  danced  out  from 
under  the  trees  on  the  west  boundary  of  the  Uni- 
versity campus. 

"  Oh ! "  she  cried  to  her  statelier,  taller  sister,  who 
with  a  young  man  followed  more  sedately  into  the 
open.  "Oh,  what  a  day!  What  a  picture!" 

She  was  a  bonny  maid  just  out  of  her  teens,  and, 
with  her  brown  gown,  brown  hair  and  eyes,  red 


12  :  THE    PROSPECTOR 

cheeks,  and  wholesome,  happy  face,  she  fitted  well  into 
the  picture  she  herself  looked  upon. 

"Dear  old  'Varsity,"  said  her  sister  in  a  voice 
quiet,  but  thrilling  with  intense  feeling.  "  There 
is  nothing  so  lovely  in  all  this  city  of  Toronto." 

"  Toronto ! "  exclaimed  the  young  man  at  her  side. 
"Well,  I  should  say!  Don't  you  know  that  a  dis- 
tinguished American  art  critic  declares  this  building 
the  most  symmetrical,  the  most  harmonious,  the  most 
perfectly  proportioned  bit  of  architecture  on  the 
American  continent.  And  that  is  something,  from  a 
citizen  of  the  '  biggest  nation  on  dry  land.' ' 

They  walked  slowly  and  silently  along  the  border 
of  the  matchless  velvety  lawn,  noting  the  many 
features  of  beauty  in  the  old  grey  face  of  the  Uni- 
versity building — the  harmonious  variety  of  lines  and 
curves  in  curious  gargoyles,  dragons,  and  gryphons 
that  adorned  the  cornices  and  the  lintels,  pausing 
long  to  admire  the  wonderful  carved  entrance  with  its 
massive  tower  above. 

"  Great,  isn't  it?  "  said  Lloyd.  "  The  whole  thing, 
I  mean — park,  lawn,  and  the  dear  old,  grey  stones." 

At  this  moment  some  men  in  football  garb  came 
running  out  of  the  pillared  portico. 

"  Oh,  here's  the  team ! "  cried  Betty,  the  younger 
sister,  ecstatically.  "Are  they  going  to  play?" 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  said  Lloyd.  "  Campbell  would 
not  risk  any  scrimmaging  or  tackling  this  evening, 
with  McGill  men  even  now  in  town  thirsting  for  their 
blood.  He's  got  them  out  for  a  run  to  limber  up 
their  wind  and  things  for  to-morrow." 


A    SOCIAL    IMPOSSIBILITY      13 

The  sisters  were  football  enthusiasts.  For  the  past 
four  years  the  beautiful  Rosedale  home  of  the  Fair- 
banks had  been  the  rendezvous  for  students,  and,  as 
many  of  these  had  been  football  men,  the  young  ladies 
had  become  as  devoted  to  the  game  and  almost  as  ex- 
pert in  its  fine  points  as  any  of  its  champions. 

"  Don't  they  look  well  and  fit,"  exclaimed  Betty  as 
the  string  of  runners  went  past. 

"  Yes,  and  fit  they  are  every  man,"  replied  Lloyd. 
"There's  Campbell  1  He's  a  truly  great  captain, 
knows  his  men,  and  gets  out  of  them  all  that  is 
possible." 

"Yes,  and  there's  Brown;  and  McNab,  isn't  it? 
Aren't  they  the  quarters?"  asked  Betty  excitedly. 

Lloyd  nodded.  "  And  yonder  goes  '  Shock,'  the 
great  Shock." 

"  Oh,  where?  "  cried  Betty.  "  Yes,  yes.  Now,  do 
you  know  I  think  he  is  just  as  mean  as  he  can  be. 
Here  I  have  been  bowing  and  smiling  my  best  and 
sweetest  for  four  years,  and  though  he  knows  a  lot  of 
the  men  we  know  he  is  just  as  much  a  stranger  as 
ever,"  and  Betty  pouted  in  a  manner  that  would  have 
brought  deep  satisfaction  to  Shock  had  he  seen  her. 

"Here  are  the  three  halves,  aren't  they?"  in- 
quired Helen,  the  elder  sister. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lloyd.  "There's  Martin  and 
Bate.  Fine  fellow,  Bate — and " 

"  Oh ! "  broke  in  Betty,  "  there's  the  '  The  Don.'  1 
do  wish  they  would  look.  They  needn't  pretend  they 
don't  see  us,  the  horrid  things." 

"Of  course  they  see  you,"  answered  Lloyd,  "but 


14  THE    PROSPECTOR 

they  are  engaged  in  serious  business.  You  surely 
don't  expect  to  divert  their  attention  from  the  pur- 
suit of  their  noble  art.  Why,  who,  or  what  do  ypu 
conceive  yourself  to  be?  " 

But  Betty  only  smiled  serenely,  and  shook  her  curls 
back  saucily. 

"Oh,  I  know,"  replied  Lloyd,  "I  know  what  you 
are  saying.  '  Some  day,  some  day  they  will  grovel.* 
Alas,  only  too  soon!  And,  indeed,  here  comes  The 
Don  on  his  second  round.  I'll  ,ask  him  what  he 
means." 

"  If  you  dare !  "  cried  Betty. 

"Mr.  Lloyd!"  said  Helen  haughtily,  and  Mr. 
Lloyd  thought  better  of  it. 

But  "The  Don"  did  not  even  glance  toward  the 
group. 

"  Look  at  that,  now,"  said  Lloyd  disgustedly. 
"  Did  anyone  ever  see  such  besotted  devotion  to  a 
barbarous  vocation." 

" He  did  not  see  us  at  all,"  insisted  Betty.  "But 
why  is  Mr.  Balfour  called  <  The  Don '?  " 

"  Obviously,  I  should  say,  from  his  Don-like  ap- 
pearance, bearing,  carriage,  etc.  But  I  am  not  an 
authority.  Ask  little  Brown,  your  special  slave.  He 
knows  all  about  both  Shock  and  The  Don." 

"  What  absurd  names  you  have,"  exclaimed  Betty. 
"Now,  what  is  the  reason  for  Shock's  name?  Is  it 
the  shock  of  his  charge  in  the  scrimmage?  " 

"  Not  bad,  that.  I  rather  fear,  however,  it  has  to 
do  with  his  most  striking  feature,  if  feature  it  be,  for 
when  you  pull  him  feet  first  out  of  a  scrimmage,  a 


A    SOCIAL    IMPOSSIBILITY      15 

method  not  infrequently  adopted,  his  head  is  a  sight  to 
behold.  But,  as  I  said  before,  ask  Brown." 

"I  will  to-night.  He's  coming  over  after  tea. 
You  are  coming,  too,  are  you  not?  " 

Lloyd  bowed.     "  I  shall  be  delighted." 

True  to  her  word  Betty  greeted  Brown,  on  his  ap- 
pearance in  the  cosy,  homelike  parlour  of  the  Fair- 
banks' that  evening,  with  the  question,  "  How  did 
'The  Don'  come  by  his  nickname?" 

"  Oh,  did  you  never  know  that  ?  Most  fellows  put 
it  down  to  his  style,  but  it's  not  that.  He  got  it  from 
his  blood.  You  know,  his  father  was  one  of  those 
West  India  sea-captains  that  one  used  to  find  strewn 
thick  through  Halifax  society,  who  made  fortunes  in 
rum  and  lost  them  pretty  much  the  same  way.  Well, 
the  old  captain  married  a  Spanish  girl.  I  have  seen 
her  portrait,  and  she  was  a  beauty,  a  6  high-bred 
Spanish  lady,'  sure  enough.  Lived  somewhere  in  the 
islands.  Came  home  with  the  Captain,  and  died  in 
Halifax,  leaving  her  seven  year  old  boy  in  charge 
of  an  aunt.  Father  died  soon  afterwards.  Grief,  I 
believe,  and  drink.  Even  then  his  people  called  the 
boy  '  the  little  Don.'  He  had  a  little  money  left  him 
to  start  with,  but  that  has  long  since  vanished.  At 
any  rate,  for  the  last  five  or  six  years  he  has  had  to 
fend  for  himself." 

"  Quite  a  romance,"  said  Lloyd. 

"  Isn't  it?  "  exclaimed  Betty.  "  And  he  never  told 
us  a  word." 

«  Well,  The  Don's  not  a  publisher." 

"  But  then  he  told  you." 


16  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Yes,  he  told  me  and  Shock  one  night.  He  likes 
us,  you  see." 

'  De  gustibus  non  disputandum,9 "  murmured 
Lloyd,  and  in  answer  to  Betty's  inquiring  look  added, 
"  as  the  old  woman  said  when  she  kissed  her  cow." 

"Now  then,  what  about  Shock's  name?"  con- 
tinued Betty. 

"  Hair,"  said  Brown  laconically.  "  You  have  seen 
him  come  out  of  a  scrimmage  like  a  crab  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Isn't  he  just  lovely  then?  "  exclaimed  Betty. 

"Lovely?  Oh,  woman,  woman!  A  ghastly, 
bloody,  fearsome  spectacle.  Lovely !  But  it  was  ever 
thus.  '  Butchered  to  make  a  Roman  holiday,' "  re- 
plied Lloyd. 

"Well,  he  is  rather  bloody.  Bleeds  easily,  you 
know,  but  it  doesn't  hurt  at  all,"  said  Brown.  "  He 
never  really  enjoys  himself  till  the  blood  flows." 

"Disgusting  old  Berserker!"  exclaimed  Lloyd. 

"  But  I  think  he  is  just  a  dear,"  went  on  Betty  en- 
thusiastically. "The  way  he  puts  his  head  right 
down  into  a  crowd  of  men,  and  lets  them  jump  on  him 
and  maul  him!" 

"  Yes,"  replied  her  sister,  who  had  taken  little  part 
in  the  conversation,  "  and  comes  out  smiling.  That  is 
what  I  like." 

"  And  bloody,"  added  Lloyd.  "  That's  what  Miss 
Betty  likes. 

"  I  want  to  know  about  him,"  cried  Betty  im- 
patiently. "Why  don't  we  get  to  know  him?  Tell 
me  about  him,"  she  insisted.  "  Where  does  he  live? 
Who  are  his  people?  " 


A    SOCIAL    IMPOSSIBILITY      17 

Brown  hesitated. 

"Well.,  you  see,  Shock's  shy.  Does  not  go  in  for 
the  sort  of  thing  that  Lloyd,  for  instance,  revels  and 
glitters  in — teas,  functions,  social  routs,  and  all  that, 
you  know.  He  has  only  his  mother,  a  dear  old  High- 
land lad}',  poor,  proud,  and  independent.  She  lives 
in  a  quaint  little  house  out  on  the  Commons  away  be- 
hind the  college,  and  lives  for,  in,  with,  by,  and  around 
Shock,  and  he  vice  versa.  He  shares  everything  with 
her,  his  work  down  in  the  mission " 

"  Mission !  "  interrupted  Betty. 

"Yes.  Runs  a  mission  down  in  St.  John's  ward. 
Gives  her  all  his  experiences  with  the  denizens  of  that 
precinct,  keeps  her  in  touch  with  his  college  work, 
and  even  with  his  football.  You  ought  to  see  him  lay 
out  the  big  matches  before  her  on  the  tea  table  with 
plates,  cups,  salt  cellars,  knives,  spoons,  and  you  ought 
to  see  her  excitement  and  hear  her  criticisms.  Oh, 
she's  a  great  sport !  " 

"Go  on,"  said  Helen,  her  fine  eyes  beginning  to 
glow.  "  Go  on.  Tell  us  more  about  her." 

But  Brown  shut  up  abruptly,  as  if  he  had  been  tak- 
ing a  liberty  with  the  privacy  of  his  friend's  home. 

"  Oh,"  he  said  lightly,  "  there's  nothing  more  to 
tell.  They  live  a  very  quiet,  very  simple,  but,  I  think, 
a  very  beautiful  life." 

"And  she's  fond  of  football?"  inquired  Betty. 

"Devoted  to  it." 

"And  has  she  never  seen  a  game?  Has  she  never 
seen  Shock  play?"  inquired  Helen. 

"Never." 


18  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"Would  she  be  afraid?" 

"Would  you  insult  the  widow  of  a  Sutherland 
Highlander  whose  picture  in  warlike  regalia  regards 
her  daily  from  her  cottage  wall?" 

"  Well,  I  am  going  to  see  her,"  exclaimed  Betty. 

Brown  looked  annoyed. 

"What  for?" 

"  Why,  I  am  going  to  call." 

Brown  laughed  a  little  scornfully.  "Yes,  and  be 
sure  to  leave  three  cards — is  it? — and  tell  her  your 
day." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  exclaimed  Betty  indig- 
nantly. "  You  are  not  very  polite." 

"  Oh,  I  am  sorry,  really.  But  I  imagined  the  old 
lady  looking  at  you  and  wondering  what  was  your 
particular  business,  and  then  I  thought  of  your  dif- 
ficulty in  making  it  quite  clear  to  her." 

"  Why !  does  she  not  call  on  anyone?  " 

"  No.     She  takes  her  knitting  and  visits." 

"Well,  I'm  going  anyway,  somehow.  I'll  ask 
Shock  to  take  me." 

"  Oh,  Betty,  you  could  not  do  that,"  said  Helen. 
"No  man  would  like  exhibiting  his  home,  much  less 
his  mother." 

But  Betty  shook  her  head  decidedly,  saying,  "  I'll 
find  some  way.  Tell  me,  what  does  she  like  ?  " 

"  Shock." 

"  But  I  mean  what  amusement  and  pleasure  has 
she?" 

"  Amusement !  Shades  of  the  mighty  past !  Why, 
Miss  Betty,"  Brown's  tone  is  sad  and  severe,  "  in  my 


A    SOCIAL    IMPOSSIBILITY      19 

young  days  young  people  never  thought  of  amuse- 
ment. We  had  no  time  for  such  follies." 

"  Oh,  nonsense ! "  exclaimed  Betty  impatiently. 
"  Has  she  no  other  interest  in  life  than  Shock  ?  " 

"  None.  Her  church, — she  would  regard  your 
prelacy  with  horror, — and  Shock,  and  Shock's  doings 
and  goings — and  football,  of  course,  as  I  have  said. 
Shock  plays,  you  see." 

"  Then  I  have  an  idea,"  cried  Helen.    "  We'll " 

"  Do  go  on,"  appealed  Brown. 

66  Better  give  it  to  him,"  said  Lloyd.  "  An  idea, 
you  know,  is  to  some  people  a  rare  and  valuable  asset." 

"  Not  now.  Perhaps  later  I  may  impart  it,"  said 
Helen. 

"  It  would  be  a  great  kindness,"  said  Brown  hum- 
bly, "  if  you  could  let  me  have  it  soon." 

"  Nature  abhors  a  vacuum,  you  know,"  put  in 
Lloyd. 

At  this  point  the  bell  rang  and  The  Don  came  in. 
He  was  a  young  man  of  striking  appearance,  hand- 
some, dark,  well  set  up,  with  the  eyes  of  his  Spanish 
mother,  but  with  the  head  and  jaw  of  his  Scotch  sea- 
captain  father.  With  all  his  ease  of  manner  there 
was  a  shy,  proud  reserve  about  him,  and  a  kind  of 
grand  air  that  set  him  apart  from  any  company  in 
which  he  might  appear. 

After  saluting  the  young  ladies  with  a  somewhat 
formal  bow,  he  announced,  "  I  want  you,  Brown." 

"Oh,  sit  down,"  cried  Betty.  "Sit  down,  Mr. 
Balfour.  We  are  not  going  to  allow  you  to  carry 
off  our  visitor  in  this  abrupt  manner." 


20  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Yes,  take  yourself  off,"  cried  Brown.  "  You  see 
I  can't  be  spared.5' 

"Please  sit  down,"  urged  Helen.  "We  want  to 
ask  you  about  the  match." 

"  I  really  cannot,"  replied  The  Don.  "  I  am  on 
duty,  you  see." 

"On  duty?" 

"  Yes.  Looking  after  men  who  would  stay  out"  to 
all  hours,  and  regale  themselves  upon  cake  and  all 
sorts  of  indigestible  stuff.  And  more  than  that, 
Shock  is  outside  waiting.'5 

"  Oh,"  cried  Betty,  "  do  bring  him  in.  For  years 
Helen  and  I  have  known  him,  and  yet  we  don't  know 
him.  Bring  him  in." 

"  Can  you  riot  persuade  him  to  come  in?"  urged 
Helen. 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot.  But  if  you  were  to  try " 

The  Don  paused,  looking  doubtfully  at  her.  Helen 
hesitated. 

"  Oh,  he's  awful.  I  know.  He  will  hardly  speak 
to  me,"  interrupted  Betty.  "  But  if  you'll  come  with 
me  I'll  humble  myself  before  him." 

In  a  moment  or  two,  sure  enough,  they  returned, 
with  Shock  following. 

He  was  a  big  man,  gaunt  and  bony,  with  a  mighty 
pair  of  shoulders  topped  by  a  square,  massive  head 
SG  wliich  bristled  a  veritable  shock  of  coarse,  yellow 
hai*v  But  he  had  a  strong,  honest  face,  and  good, 
deep  blue  eyes.  He  seemed  too  big  for  the  room,  and 
after  shaking  hands  awkwardly  with  Helen,  who 
gone  forward  to  meet  him,  he  subsided  into 


A    SOCIAL    IMPOSSIBILITY      21 

a  deep  arm-chair,  struggling  with  his  hands  and 
feet. 

The  contrast  between  Shock  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  elegant  Lloyd  and  the  handsome  Don  on  the 
other,  could  hardly  be  more  striking.  All  in  the  room 
were  conscious  of  this  contrast  and  sought  in  every 
way  to  minimise  it.  Betty  plunged  into  football 
talk,  to  which  Shock  listened  for  the  most  part  smil- 
ingly silent. 

She  was  determined  to  draw  her  unhappy  visitor 
from  his  shell.  But  her  most  brilliant  efforts  were  in 
vain.  Poor  Shock  remained  hopelessly  engaged  with 
his  hands  and  feet,  and  replied  at  unexpected  places 
in  explosive  monosyllables  at  once  ludicrous  and  dis- 
concerting. Not  even  The  Don,  who  came  to  her 
assistance,  could  relieve  the  awkwardness  of  the  situ- 
ation. Shock  was  too  large  to  be  ignored,  and  too 
unwieldy  to  be  adjusted. 

After  a  few  minutes  of  hopeless  endeavour  The 
Don  gave  up  the  attempt  and  rose  to  go,  saying: 
"  You  will  need  to  excuse  us.  We  are  due  at  a  meet- 
ing to-night.  Come  along,  Brown." 

The  alacrity  which  Shock  displayed  in  getting 
upon  his  feet  gave  abundant  testimony  to  the  agony 
he  had  been  suffering  during  the  last  half  hour. 

"  Yes,  we  must  be  off,"  said  Brown,  far  more  eager 
to  go  than  was  his  wont. 

"  Will  you  not  come  again?  "  said  Betty  to  Shock, 
as  she  shook  hands  with  him.  "  My  mother  would  be 
glad  to  see  you." 

But  Shock  could  only  look  at  her  blankly,  evidently 


22  THE    PROSPECTOR 

wondering  what  her  mother  might  wish  to  see  him  for, 
and  when  Betty  tried  to  extract  a  promise  from  him  he 
muttered  something  about  being  "  far  behind  in  his 
work  and  very  busy." 

But  Betty  was  not  to  be  baulked. 

"I  should  like  to  call  on  your  mother,"  she  said. 
But  again  Shock  looked  blank,  while  Brown  began  to 
make  faces  at  her  from  behind  his  back. 

"  When  will  your  mother  be  in  ?  "  she  persisted. 

"  Oh,  she's  in  every  day,  except  when  she  goes  out 
for  a  walk,  or " 

Brown  kept  up  his  signalling,  and  The  Don  began 
to  look  puzzled  and  annoyed. 

"  Well,"  said  Betty  desperately,  "  I  would  like  to 
go  and  see  her  some  day." 

Shock  hesitated,  blushed,  and  then  answered :  "  We 
have  no  friends  in  the  city,  and  we  do  not  visit  much, 
and " 

"  Oh,  I'U  tell  you,  Miss  Betty,"  burst  in  Brown. 
"  Get  a  sharp  attack  of  typhoid  and  Mrs.  Mac- 
gregor  will  then  come  and  see  you.  She's  a  great 
nurse." 

"  That  she  is,"  said  Shock  enthusiastically.  "  She 
would  be  glad  to  come." 

rt  Come  along,  Brown,"  broke  in  The  Don.  "  We 
are  late  now.  Come  along,  Shock,"  and  the  three 
men  went  off  together,  leaving  Lloyd  behind. 

"Isn't  he  awful?"  said  Betty.  "And  didn't  I 
humiliate  myself?  " 

"You  certainly  deserved  humiliation,5*  said  her 
Bister  indignantly.  "  You  might  have  seen  he  was 


A    SOCIAL    IMPOSSIBILITY      2$ 

dreadfully  shy,  and  you  ought  to  have  left  him  alone. 
And  now  for  my  great  idea.  I  will  take  you  both 
into  my  confidence.  I  am  going  to  drive  Mrs.  Mac- 
gregor  to  the  match  to-morrow." 

"  Splendid ! "  exclaimed  Betty.  "  And  I'll  go  with 
you.  But  how  can  you  persuade  her?  " 

"  I  have  thought  about  that,"  said  Helen.  "  We'll 
ask  Mr.  Brown  to  drive  around  with  us  a  little  before, 
and  I'm  sure  she  will  go." 

"Will  you  allow  me  to  join  the  party?"  humbly 
asked  Lloyd,  "  or  is  there  someone  else  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Betty,  "  we  are  sure  to  need  somebody, 
and  you  will  do  as  well  as  any  other." 

In  obedience  to  an  invitation  conveyed  by  Lloyd, 
Brown  appeared  at  the  Fairbanks  house  in  the  early 
morning.  Eagerly  the  young  ladies  propounded 
their  plan.  At  once  Brown  entered  heartily  into  it, 
and  calling  with  them  in  the  afternoon  persuaded  the 
old  lady  that  she  ought  to  attend  the  great  match, 
emphasising  especially  the  fact  that  Shock  would  be 
delighted  to  see  her  there,  and  would  be  stimulated  to 
do  his  very  best  by  her  presence. 

"  It  will  likely  be  his  last  game,  too,"  urged  Brown. 

This  finally  decided  the  matter,  and  so  it  turned 
out  that  perhaps  the  most  enthusiastic,  and  certainly 
the  most  picturesque,  of  all  the  groups  that  sur- 
rounded the  campus  next  day  was  that  which  filled  thr 
Fairbanks  carriage,  consisting  of  two  young  ladies, 
an  elegantly  attired  young  man,  and  a  quaint,  plainly 
dressed,  but  undeniably  dignified,  old  lady. 


n 

'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL 

IT  is  a  glorious  autumn  day.     The  smoky  air 
with  just  a  nip  of  the  coining  frost  in  it   hangs 
still  over  the  trees,  through  whose  bare  tops  and 
interlacing  boughs  the  genial  sunlight  falls  in  a 
golden  glory  upon  the  grass  below.     The  nip  in  the 
air,  the  golden  light,  the  thrilling  uncertainty  of  the 
coming  match,  the  magnitude  of  the  issue  at  stake, 
combine  to  raise  the  ardour  of  football  enthusiasts 
to  the  highest  pitch. 

The  record  of  each  team  is  unique.  Each  has  gone 
through  the  championship  series  without  a  single 
reverse.  Perhaps  never  in  their  history  have  both 
universities  been  more  worthily  represented  than  by 
.the  teams  that  are  to  contest  to-day  the  championship 
of  the  Dominion. 

The  McGill  men  are  the  first  to  appear  on  the 
campus,  and  are  welcomed  with  loud  and  generous 
cheers,  which  are,  however,  redoubled  upon  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  'Varsity  champions. 

Many  eyes  are  turned  upon  the  Fairbanks  car- 
riage. The  young  ladies  are  well  known  in  Univer- 
sity circles ;  but  the  quaint  old  lady,  looking  so  hand- 
tome  in  spite  of  her  plain  black  bonnet,  awakens  the 
curiosity  of  the  crowd,  which  only  increases  when  it 
becomes  known  that  she  is  Shock's  mother. 

"  Do  you  see  Hamish,  my  dear?  "  inquires  the  old 

24 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     25 

lady.  "  They  are  so  much  alike  I  cannot  distinguish 
him." 

"  Go  and  bring  him,"  cries  Betty,  and  Lloyd  re- 
turns in  a  moment  with  Shock  and  little  Brown. 

"  Mother !  mother !  This  is  awful.  You  won't  like 
it  a  bit.  You'll  think  I'm  getting  killed  many  a  time." 

But  the  old  lady  only  smiles  placidly.  "  Indeed, 
and  I'm  not  afraid  for  you.  Run  away,  Hamish,  and 
be  careful  of  the  laddies." 

"  Doirt  tell  him  that,  Mrs.  Macgregor,"  pleads 
Brown.  "  He's  far  too  gentle  as  it  is." 

Some  few  minutes  are  spent  in  arranging  for  the 
kick-off. 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  they  would  start,"  exclaims  Betty, 
standing  up  in  the  carriage.  "  If  they  would  only 
start ! "  she  repeats.  "  I  want  to  have  a  chance  to 
shriek." 

"  There  they  go !  "  exelaims  Lloyd. 

It  is  McGill's  kick.  Huntingdon,  the  big  captain 
and  centre  forward,  takes  it  magnificently,  following 
up  hard  with  his  whole  team.  Pepper,  the  'Varsity  full 
back,  however,  is  at  the  spot  and  returns  into  touch. 
In  the  throw-in  McGill  secures  the  ball,  and  by  a 
swift  rush  makes  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  when,  amid 
the  cheers  of  the  spectators,  both  teams  settle  down 
into  their  first  scrimmage. 

These  are  the  days  of  close  scrimmage  play,  when 
nine  men  on  each  side  put  their  heads  down  with  the 
ball  between  them,  and  shove  for  dear  life.  Picking 
out,  heeling  out,  or  kicking  out  is  strictly  forbidden 
and  promptly  penalised. 


26  THE    PROSPECTOR 

The  first  scrimmage  results  in  a  dead  ball.  Once 
more  a  scrimmage  is  formed,  but  again  the  result  is 
a  dead  ball.  Over  and  over  again  this  play  is  re- 
peated with  very  little  gain  on  either  side.  It  gradu- 
ally becomes  apparent,  however,  that  McGill  in  a 
scrimmage  is  slightly  heavier.  Foot  by  foot  they 
work  their  way  toward  the  'Varsity  goal. 

The  cries  of  "  Hold  them,  'Varsity !  Hold  them, 
'Varsity!"  and,  "You've  got  'em,  McGill!  You've 
got  'em!"  indicate  the  judgment  of  the  spectators. 

"Ay,"  says  the  old  lady,  "  they  are  a  bit  heavy  for 
them,  I  doubt." 

"  Who ! "  inquires  Betty,  much  amused. 

"  The  Montreal  lads.  But  we  will  be  waiting  a 
meenute." 

It  is  a  very  slow  game  for  the  crowds  that  line 
every  side  of  the  field.  Neither  team  will  let  the  ball 
out.  Again  and  again  the  quarters  nip  up  the 
ball  and  pass,  but  the  tackling  is  so  hard  and  swift 
that  the  halves  cannot  get  away,  and  by  passing 
ground  is  almost  always  lost. 

"  Keep  it  in ! "  is  the  word.  Inch  by  inch  towards 
the  'Varsity  goal  the  McGill  forwards  fight  their 
way. 

Suddenly  the  McGill  scrimmage  weakens  and  breaks 
up.  Their  quarter  seizes  the  ball,  passes  it  low  and 
swift  to  Bunch,  who  is  off  like  the  wind  across  the 
field,  dodges  through  the  quarters,  knocks  off  Martin 
and  Bate,  and  with  The  Don  coming  hard  upon  his 
flank,  sets  off  for  the  'Varsity  line  with  only  Pepper 
between  him  and  a  touch-down. 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     27 

But  Pepper  is  waiting  for  him,  cool  and  steady. 
As  Bunch  nears  him  he  crouches  like  a  cat,  creeping 
slowly  to  meet  his  coming  foe.  Ten  feet  from  the 
line  straight  at  the  full  back  goes  Bunch.  At  two 
paces  distance  he  changes  his  mind  and  swerves  to 
the  left  with  the  hope  of  dodging  past. 

But  he  has  ventured  too  far.  Pepper  takes  two 
short  steps,  and  like  a  tiger  springs  at  his  foe,  winds 
his  arms  round  his  hips  and  drags  him  down,  while 
The  Don  from  the  side  leaps  fiercely  on  him  and  holds 
the  ball  safe,  five  feet  from  the  line. 

'Varsity  goes  wild  with  relief. 

"  Pepper !  Pepper, !  Red  hot  Pepper ! "  they  chant 
rapturously  in  enthusiastic  groups  here  and  there,  as 
Pepper's  red  head  emerges  from  the  crowd  piled  upon 
him  and  the  prostrate  Bunch.  Again  and  again  rises 
the  chant,  as  the  full  back  returns  at  a  slow  trot  to 
his  place  behind  the  line. 

"  Indeed,  it  is  Pepper  is  the  grand  laddie,'?  says  the 
old  lady  approvingly.  "Many's  the  game  he  has 
saved,  Hamish  will  be  telling  rne." 

"  Now,  MeGill ! "  calls  out  a  Montreal  man,  leading 
his  fellows.  "  Stone  wall !  Stone  wall !  Shove  'em 
in !  Shove  'em  in !  " 

But  the  'Varsity  captain  is  alive  to  his  danger.,  and 
getting  his  men  low  down  he  determines  to  hold  the 
enemy  fast  till  the  fury  of  their  attack  be  somewhat 
spent,  or  till  fortune  shall  bring  him  aid. 

"  Get  up !  Get  up  there,  'Varsity ! "  yells  the  MeGill 
contingent. 

"  Look  at  'em  saying  their  prayers !  "  shouts  a  boy. 


28  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  They  need  to,"  answers  another. 

"  Get  up,  'Varsity !  Get  up !  Don't  be  afraid ! "  they 
yell  derisively. 

"  Make  'em  stand  up,  referee,"  a  Montreal  man 
insists. 

Again  and  again  the  McGill  captain  appeals  to  the 
referee,  who  remonstrates,  urges,  and  finally  orders 
the  'Varsity  to  get  up  or  be  penalised. 

Campbell  perceives  that  something  must  be  done, 
He  moves  Shock  from  the  centre  to  the  left  wing  of 
the  scrimmage  and  calls  in  Martin  and  Bate  from 
half. 

By  this  time  every  'Varsity  man  is  on  his  feet,  for 
he  knows  that  Shock  is  about  to  lead  the  "  screw  "  and 
before  the  scrimmage  is  well  formed  the  MeGill  stone 
wall  is  broken,  and  Campbell  is  boring  through  it 
with  the  ba  1,  gaining  a  good  ten  feet  and  by  a  quick 
re-form  ten  more. 

"  Man,  man,  take  heed.  Yon's  a  dangerous  game, 
I'm  thinking,"  murmurs  Shock's  mother  anxiously,  to 
the  amazed  amusement  of  Lloyd,  who  replies,  "  Why, 
Mrs.  Macgregor,  you  seem  to  know  the  game  as  well 
as  the  rest  of  us." 

"  Ay,  Hamish  has  often  showed  me  the  working  of 
the  screw,  and  it  is  not  to  be  depended  upon  in  a 
place  like  yon." 

The  'Varsity  team  breathe  freely  again  and  go  in 
with  new  vim,  while  McGill  settles  down  on  the  ball  to 
recover  steadiness. 

But  the  'Varsity  captain  has  seen  the  screw  work 
and  resolves  to  try  it  again.  Once  more  he  moves 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     29 

Shock  to  the  wing,  signals  to  the  quarters,  and  again 
the  Montreal  stone  wall  is  demoralised.  But  instead 
of  Campbell  boring  over  the  prostrate  form  of  his 
big  centre  with  the  ball  the  McGill  captain,  securing 
it,  passes  to  Carroll,  his  quarter,  who  dashing  off  as 
a  feint  to  the  right,  passes  far  across  the  field  to 
Bunch  on  the  left. 

Bunch  as  usual  is  in  his  place,  catches  beautifully 
and  is  off  down  the  field  like  a  whirlwind,  dodging 
one,  knocking  off  another,  running  round  a  third,  till 
between  him  and  the  goal  line  he  has  only  the  half 
back,  Martin,  and  the  full. 

The  McGill  people  go  wild  again.  "  Bunch ! 
Bunch ! "  they  yell  frantically,  crowding  down  the 
line  after  him.  "  He's  in !  He's  in ! " 

But  not  yet.  Red  Pepper  is  swiftly  bearing  down 
upon  him,  and  as  he  comes  within  reach  springs  at 
him.  But  the  wily  Bunch  has  learned  to  measure  that 
long  reach,  and  dodging  back  sharply,  he  slips  round 
Pepper  and  makes  for  the  line  ten  yards  away. 

A  long  groan  goes  up  from  the  'Varsity  sup- 
port, while  from  a  hundred  McGill  throats  rises  the 
cry  again — "He's  in!  He's  in!  A  touch!  A 
touch!" 

But  close  upon  him,  and  gaining  at  every  foot,  is 
The  Don,  the  fleetest  man  in  the  'Varsity  team.  For 
half  a  second  it  looks  as  if  Bunch  must  make  the 
line,  but  within  three  yards  of  the  goal,  and  just  as 
he  is  about  to  throw  himself  toward  it,  Balf  our  shoots 
out  his  arm,  grasps  his  enemy  by  the  back  of  the 
neck,  and  turning  round,  hurls  him  back  with  terrific 


80  THE    PROSPECTOR 

force  to  the  ground  and  clambers  on  top  of  him.  It 
is  a  fierce  tackle,  giving  great  satisfaction  to  all  the 
'Varsity  supporters,  but  to  none  more  than  to  Mrs. 
Macgregor,  who,  as  she  sees  the  unfortunate  Bunch 
hurled  to  earth,  exclaims  with  quiet  satisfaction, 
"  That  will  be  doing  for  ye,  I'm  thinking." 

"Isn't  she  a  great  old  warrior? "  says  Lloyd  aside, 
to  the  young  ladies. 

"The  Don!  The  Don!"  cry  the  'Varsity  con- 
tingent, "We— like— Don!  We— like— Don !"  they 
chant,  surging  across  the  corner  of  the  field  in  the 
wildest  enthusiasm. 

"Keep  back!  Keep  back!  Give  him  air."  The 
referee,  and  the  captains  with  their  teams,  push  the 
crowd  back,  for  Bunch  is  lying  motionless  upon 
the  ground. 

"  It's  simply  a  case  of  wind,"  says  little  Carroll, 
the  McGill  quarter,  lightly. 

*  "  The  want  of  it,  you  mean,"  says  big  Mooney, 
hauling  Carroll  back  by  the  neck. 

In  a  few  minutes,  however,  the  plucky  McGill  half 
back  is  up  again,  and  once  more  the  scrimmage  is 
formed. 

Gradually  it  grows  more  evident  that  McGill  is 
heavier  in  the  scrimmage,  but  this  advantage  is  offset 
by  the  remarkable  boring  quality  of  the  'Varsity  cap- 
tain, who,  upon  the  break  up  of  a  scrimmage,  gener- 
ally succeeds  in  making  a  few  feet,  frequently  over 
Shock's  huge  body.  As  for  Shock,  he  apparently 
enjoys  being  walked  upon  by  his  captain,  and 
emerges  from  each  successive  scrimmage  with  his  yel- 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     31 

low  hair  fiercely  erect,  his  face  covered  with  blood, 
and  always  wreathed  in  smiles.  No  amount  of  hack- 
ing and  scragging  in  a  scrimmage  can  damp  his 
ardour  or  ruffle  the  serenity  of  his  temper. 

"Isn't  he  ghastly?"  exclaims  Lloyd  to  the  young 
ladies  at  his  side. 

"Perfectly  lovely!"  cries  Betty  in  return. 

"  Ah,  the  old  story  of  the  bloodthirsty  sex,"  replies 
Lloyd.  "  Hello,  there  goes  half  time,"  he  adds,  "  and 
no  score  yet.  This  is  truly  a  great  game."  Eagerly 
the  men  are  taken  charge  of  by  their  respective 
attendants,  stripped,  rubbed,  slapped,  and  sponged. 

Up  come  Shock  and  Brown.  The  blood  on  Shock's 
face  gives  him  a  terrifying  appearance. 

"  Oh ! "  cries  Helen  anxiously,  "  you  are  hurt." 

"Net  a  bit,"  he  replies  cheerily,  glancing  in  sur- 
prise at  her. 

"How  do  you  like  it,  Mrs  Macgregor?"  inquires 
Brown.  * 

"Man,  laddie,  they  are  a  grand  team,  and  it  ^£u 
be  no  easy  matter  to  wheep  them." 

"Don't  you  think  now  that  Shock  is  a  little  too 
gentle  with  them  ?  "  asks  Brown  wickedly. 

"Well,  it  will  not  do  to  allow  them  to  have  their 
own  way  altogether,"  she  replies  cautiously.  "  But 
run  away,  Hamish,  and  get  yourself  put  right.  There 
is  much  before  you  yet." 

"  Say,  old  man,"  says  Brown  as  they  trot  off,  "  it's 
no  credit  to  you  to  be  a  great  centre.  You'd  dis- 
grace your  blood  if  you  were  anything  else." 

Into  the  'Varsity  dressing  room  strolls  old  Black, 


32  THE    PROSPECTOR 

the  greatest  captain  of  the  greatest  team  'Varsity 
has  ever  seen. 

"  Well,  old  chap,"  he  calls  out  cheerfully  to  Camp- 
bell, "how  goes  it?" 

"  All  right,"  says  Campbell.  "  They  are  a  great 
team,  but  I  think  we  are  holding  them." 

"They  are  the  greatest  team  McGill  ever  sent 
here,"  replies  Black. 

"Oh,  thanks,  awfully,"  says  Campbell,  "but  they 
are  hardly  up  to  the  team  of  four  years  ago." 

"  Quite,  I  assure  you,  and  you  are  holding  them 
down." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  There  was  no  anxiety  in 
the  captain's  tone,  but  there  was  a  serious  earnestness 
that  somehow  caught  the  ear  of  all  the  men  in  the 
room. 

Black  noticed  it. 

"  Yes,  you  are  holding  them  so  far,  without  a  doubt. 
Their  weight  tells  in  the  scrimmage,  and  of  course 
we  do  not  know  their  back  play  yet,  and  that  fellow 
Bunch  Cameron  is  a  wonder." 

"That's  what!"  sings  out  little  Brown.  "But 
what's  the  matter  with  The  Don?" 

Immediately  the  roar  comes  back,  "He's — all — 
right!" 

"  Yes,"  replies  Black  quietly,  "  Balf our  is  swifter, 
and  harder  in  tackle." 

"  Have  you  anything  to  suggest  ?"  asks  Campbell, 
with  a  reverence  which  a  man  in  the  struggle  feels  for 
one  who  has  achieved.  The  men  are  all  quiet,  listen- 
ing. But  Black  knows  his  place. 


'VARSITY    VERSUS     McGILL     33 

"  Not  in  the  least.  You  have  a  great  team,  and 
you  are  handling  them  perfectly." 

"  Hear  that  now,  will  you  ? "  cries  little  Brown. 
"We're  It!" 

"Do  you  think  we  had  better  open  up  a  little?" 
But  Black  is  a  gentleman  and  knows  better  than  to 
offer  advice. 

"  I  really  cannot  offer  an  opinion.  You  know  your 
men  better  than  I.  Besides,  it  is  better  to  find  out 
your  enemy's  tactics  than  to  be  too  stuck  on  your 
own.  Remember,  those  fellows  are  doing  some  think- 
ing at  this  blessed  minute.  Of  course,"  he  went  on 
hesitatingly,  "  if  they  keep  playing  the  same  close 
game — well — you  might  try — that  is — you  have  got 
a  great  defence,  you  know,  and  The  Don  can  run 
away  from  any  of  them." 

"All  right,"  said  the  captain.  "We'll  feel  'em 
first,  boys.  Keep  at  the  old  game.  Close  and  steady 
till  we  get  inside  their  heads.  Watch  their  quarters. 
They're  lightning  in  a  pass." 

It  turns  out  that  old  Black  is  right.  The  McGills 
have  been  doing  some  thinking.  From  the  kick-off 
they  abandon  the  close  scrimmage  for  a  time,  playing 
an  open,  dribbling,  punting  game,  and  they  are  play- 
ing it  superbly.  While  they  are  sure  in  their  catch- 
ing and  fierce  in  their  tackle,  their  specialty  is  punting 
and  following  up.  In  this  they  are  exceedingly  dan- 
gerous. For  the  first  ten  minutes  the  'Varsity  men 
are  forced  within  their  own  twenty-five  yard  line  and 
are  put  upon  their  defence.  The  quarters  and  for- 
wards begin  to  "  back,"  a  sure  sign  of  coming  doom. 


34  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  What  in  thunder  are  you  doing  back  here !  "  roars 
Martin  to  little  Brown.  "  Do  you  see  anything 
wrong  with  this  line  ?  " 

Nothing  so  maddens  a  half  back  as  to  see  the  for- 
ward line  fall  back  into  defence.  Little  Brown, 
accepting  his  rebuke  with  extraordinary  meekness, 
abandons  the  defence  and  with  the  other  quarters  and 
forwards,  who  had  been  falling  back,  goes  up  where 
Campbell  and  Shock  are  doing  their  best  to  break  the 
punting  game  and  are  waiting  their  chance  for  a 
run. 

Every  moment  is  dangerous;  for  the  McGills  have 
the  spirit  of  victory  strong  upon  them,  and  from  their 
supporters  on  the  side  lines  the  triumphant  and  ex- 
asperating refrain  is  rising: 

"  Got  'em  going,  going,  going, 
Got  'em  going  home." 

And  indeed  for  a  few  minutes  it  looks  like  it.  Again 
and  again  the  McGill  forward  line,  fed  carefully  and 
judiciously  by  their  defence,  rush  to  the  attack,  and 
it  is  all  Campbell  can  do  to  hold  his  men  in  place. 
Seizing  the  opportunity  of  a  throw-in  for  'Varsity, 
he  passes  the  word  to  his  halves  and  quarters,  "  Don't 
give  away  the  ball.  Hold  and  run.  Don't  pass," 
and  soon  he  has  the  team  steady  again  and  ready  for 
aggressive  work.  Before  long,  by  resolutely  refus- 
ing to  kick  or  pass  and  by  close,  hard  tackling,  'Var- 
sity forces  McGill  to  abandon  open  play,  and  once 
more  the  game  settles  down  into  the  old,  terrible, 
grinding  scrimmage. 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     35 

"  Oh,  why  don't  they  let  The  Don  have  it?"  ex- 
claims Betty.  "  I  am  sure  he  could  get  through." 

The  crowd  seem  to  hold  the  same  opinion,  for  they 
begin  to  call  out,  "  Let  it  out,  Alec.  Let  The  Don 
have  it." 

But  Campbell  still  plays  cautiously  a  close  game. 
His  men  are  staying  well,  and  he  is  conscious  of  a  re- 
serve in  his  back  line  that  he  can  call  upon  at  the 
fitting  moment.  For  that  moment,  however,  he  waits 
anxiously,  for  while  his  scrim  is  playing  with  bulldog 
grit  it  is  losing  snap.  True,  Shock  comes  out  of 
every  tussle  bloody,  serene,  and  smiling  as  usual,  but 
the  other  men  are  showing  the  punishment  of  the  last 
hour's  terrible  scrimmage.  The  extra  weight  of  the 
McGill  line  is  beginning  surely  to  tell. 

It  is  an  anxious  moment  for  the  'Varsity  captain, 
for  any  serious  weakening  of  the  scrimmage  line  is 
disastrous  to  the  morals  of  a  team. 

"  You  are  holding  them  all  right,  old  chap,"  says 
old  Black,  taking  advantage  of  a  pause  in  the  play 
while  little  Brown's  leg  is  being  rubbed  into 
suppleness. 

"  I'd  like  to  open  out,  but  I'm  afraid  to  do  it,"  re- 
plies Campbell. 

14  Well,  I  think  your  back  line  h  safe  enough. 
Their  scrimmage  is  gaining  on  you.  I  almost  think 
you  might  venture  to  try  a  pass  game." 

It  is  upon  the  passing  of  his  back  line  that  Camp- 
bell has  in  previous  matches  depended  for  winning, 
and  with  ordinary  opponents  he  would  have  adopted 
long  ago  this  style  of  play,  but  these  McGill  men  are 


86  THE    PROSPECTOR 

so  hard  upon  the  ball,  so  deadly  in  tackling,  and  so 
sure  in  their  catch  that  he  hesitates  to  give  them  the 
opportunities  that  open  play  affords.  But  he  has 
every  confidence  in  The  Don,  his  great  half  back ;  he 
has  never  played  him  in  any  match  where  he  has  not 
proved  himself  superior  to  everything  in  the  field,  and 
he  resolves  to  give  him  a  chance. 

At  this  moment  something  happens,  no  one  knows 
how.  A  high  punt  from  behind  sends  the  ball  far  up 
into  the  'Varsity  territory,  and  far  before  all  others 
Bunch,  who  seems  to  have  a  kind  of  uncanny  instinct 
for  what  is  going  to  happen,  catches  the  ball  on  the 
bound  and  makes  for  the  'Varsity  line  with  a  compara- 
tively open  field  before  him.  Fifteen  yards  from  the 
line  he  is  tackled  by  Martin,  but  ere  he  falls  passes  to 
Huntingdon,  his  captain,  who,  catching  neatly  and 
dodging  between  Campbell  and  another  'Varsity  man, 
hurls  his  huge  weight  upon  Pepper,  who  is  waiting 
for  him,  crouched  low  after  his  usual  style. 

The  full  back  catches  him  fairly  and  throws  him 
over  his  shoulder.  As  both  come  heavily  to  the 
ground  there  is  a  sickening  crack  heard  over  the  field. 
The  McGill  captain,  with  Pepper  hanging  desper- 
ately to  his  hips,  drags  himself  over  the  line  and 
secures  a  touchdown  for  McGill. 

At  once  there  rises  a  wild  tumult  of  triumph  from 
the  McGill  contingent,  but  after  a  minute  or  two  the 
noise  is  followed  by  an  anxious  hush,  and  when  the 
crowd  about  the  prostrate  players  is  dispersed  Pepper 
is  seen  lying  on  his  face  tearing  up  the  grass.  Two 
or  three  doctors  rush  in  from  the  crowd,  and  before 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     37 

long  Pepper  is  •  carried  off  the  field.  His  leg  is 
broken. 

A  number  of  people  begin  to  leave  the  field. 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  horrible,"  groans  Betty,  turning  very 
pale.  "  Shall  we  go  home,  Mrs.  Macgregor?  " 

Helen  looks  at  the  old  lady  anxiously. 

"  Here  is  Hamish,"  she  replies  quickly.  "  We  will 
wait.'9 

Shock  runs  up,  much  disturbed. 

"  Awful,  is  it  not  ?  "  he  says  to  Helen,  who  is  the 
first  to  meet  him.  "  I  am  sorry,  mother,  you  are 
here." 

"Will  they  be  stopping,  think  you,  Hamish? " 
asks  his  mother.  There  is  a  shade  of  anxiety  in  her 
voice. 

"  No,  mother,  we  must  play  it  out." 

"  Then  I  will  just  be  waiting  for  the  end,"  says  the 
old  lady  calmly.  "  Poor  laddie — but  he  was  bravely 
defending  his  post.  And  you  must  just  be  going, 
Hamish  man." 

As  Shock  moved  off  the  young  ladies  and  Lloyd 
looked  at  her  in  amazement.  It  was  in  some  such 
spirit  that  she  had  sent  her  husband  to  his  last  fight 
twenty  years  ago. 

A  cloud  of  grief  and  foreboding  settles  down  upon 
the  'Varsity  team,  for  Pepper  is  not  only  a  great 
favourite  with  them,  but  as  a  full  back  they  have 
learned  to  depend  upon  him.  Huntingdon  is  full  of 
regrets,  and  at  once  offers  Campbell  and  the  referee 
to  forego  the  touchdown,  and  to  scrimmage  at  the 
point  of  tackle. 


38  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  He  would  have  held  me,  I  know,  bar  the  accident/' 
he  says. 

The  referee  is  willing,  but  Campbell  will  not  hear 
of  it 

"  Put  off  a  man,"  he  says  shortly,  "  and  go  on  with 
the  game." 

Bate  is  moved  from  half  to  full,  a  man  is  taken 
from  the  scrimmage  to  supply  his  place,  McGili  makes 
a  similar  shift,  and  the  game  proceeds. 

Huntingdon  fails  to  convert  the  touchdown  into  a 
goal.  Bate  kicks  back  into  touch,  and  with  desperate 
determination  'Varsity  goes  in  to  even  the  score. 

Campbell  resolves  now  to  abandon  the  close  game. 
He  has  everything  to  win,  and  to  lose  by  four  points 
is  as  much  a  loss  as  by  a  dozen. 

"Play  to  your  halves  every  time,"  he  orders  the 
quarters,  and  no  sooner  is  play  begun  than  the  wis- 
dom of  the  plan  is  seen.  With  a  brilliant  series  of 
passes  the  'Varsity  quarters  and  halves  work  the  ball 
through  the  McGili  twenty-five  line,  and  by  following 
hard  a  high  punt,  force  the  enemy  to  a  safety  touch. 
No  sooner  has  the  McGili  captain  kicked  off  than  the 
ball  is  returned  and  again  McGili  is  forced  to 
rouge. 

The  score  now  stands  four  to  two  in  favour  of  Mc- 
Gili, but  the  'Varsity  men  have  come  to  their  strongest 
and  are  playing  with  an  aggressiveness  that  cannot  be 
denied.  Again  and  again  they  press  their  opponents 
behind  their  twenty-five  line. 

"  Oh,"  exclaims  Betty,  "  if  there  is  only  time  they 
can  win  yet.  Do  find  out,"  she  says  to  Lloyd,  "  what 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     39 

time  there  is  left."  And  Lloyd  comes  back  to  an- 
nounce that  there  are  only  six  minutes  to  play. 

"  Hamish  will  be  telling  me  that  a  game  is  often 
won  in  the  last  minute,"  remarks  the  old  lady  encour- 
agingly. 

As  Campbell  perceives  his  desperate  case,  he  begins 
to  swear  low,  fierce  oaths  at  his  quarters.  In  all  their 
experience  of  their  captain  the  'Varsity  men  have 
never  heard  him  swear,  and  they  awake  to  the  fact 
that  they  are  face  to  face  with  a  situation  entirely  un- 
paralleled in  their  history  as  a  team.  They  are  being 
defeated,  and  about  to  lose  their  one  chance  of  the 
proud  distinction  of  holding  the  championship  of 
Canada. 

From  man  to  man  Campbell  goes  as  he  finds  oppor- 
tunity, his  face  white,  his  eyes  ablaze,  adjuring,  urg- 
ing, entreating,  commanding,  in  a  way  quite  unusual 
with  him. 

A  new  spirit  seizes  the  men.  Savagely  they  press 
the  enemy.  They  are  never  off  the  ball,  but  follow 
it  as  hounds  a  hare,  and  tfcey  fling  themselves  so 
fiercely  at  their  foe  that  in  every  tackle  a  McGill 
man  goes  down  to  earth. 

But  try  as  they  may  it  seems  impossible  to  get  the 
ball  to  The  Don.  The  McGill  men  have  realised  their 
danger  and  have  men  specially  detailed  to  block  the 
great  'Varsity  half.  Again  and  again  The  Don  re- 
ceives the  ball,  but  before  he  can  get  away  these  men 
are  upon  him. 

At  length,  however,  the  opportunity  comes.  By  a 
low,  swift  pass  from  Brown,  Martin  receives  the  ball 


4<0  THE    PROSPECTOR 

and  immediately  transfers  it  to  The  Don.  Straight 
into  the  midst  of  a  crowd  of  McGill  men  he  plunges, 
knocking  off  the  hands  reaching  for  him,  slipping 
through  impossible  apertures,  till  he  emerges  at  the 
McGill  line  with  little  Carroll  hanging  on  to  his 
shoulders,  and  staggering  across  falls  fairly  into  the 
arms  of  big  Mooney. 

Down  they  go  all  three  together,  with  hands  on  the 
ball. 

"What  is  it?  Oh,  what  is  it?"  shrieks  Betty, 
springing  upon  the  box. 

"  I  am  thinking  it  is  what  they  will  be  calling  a 
maul  In  goal,  and  it  is  a  peety  we  cannot  be  seeing  it," 
replies  the  dauntless  old  lady. 

"  Oh,  it's  The  Don,"  exclaims  Betty  anxiously. 
"  What  are  they  doing  to  him  ?  Run,  oh,  run  and 
see !  "  and  Lloyd  runs  off. 

"  It's  a  maul  sure  enough.  Two  of  them  have  The 
Don  down,"  he  announces,  "  but  he'll  hold  all  right/5 
he  adds  quickly,  glancing  keenly  at  Betty. 

"  Let  me  go,"  cried  Betty.     "  I  must  go." 

"  Betty,"  says  Helen,  in  a  low  voice,  "  be  quiet." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care,"  cries  Betty  passionately.  "  I 
want  to  go." 

"  He'll  hold  all  right,"  says  Lloyd  confidently,  and 
Betty  grows  suddenly  quiet. 

"  Ay,  that  he  will,  yon  chap,"  agrees  Mrs.  Mac- 
gregor,  standing  up  and  trying  to  see  what  is 
going  on. 

"If  The  Don  can  hold  for  three  minutes  it  will 
count  two  for  his  side;  if  Mooney  and  Carroll  can 


VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     41 

get  the  ball  away  it  will  only  count  one,"  explained 
Lloyd. 

About  the  three  players  struggling  on  the  ground 
the  crowd  pours  itself,  yelling,  urging,  imploring, 
shrieking  directions.  Campbell  stoops  down  over  Th« 
Don  and  shouts  into  his  ear.  "  Hold  on,  Don.  It 
means  the  game,"  and  The  Don,  lying  on  his  back, 
winds  his  arms  round  the  ball  and  sets  himself  to  resist 
the  efforts  of  Mooney  and  Carroll  to  get  it  away. 

In  vain  the  police  and  field  censors  try  to  keep  back 
the  crowd.  They  are  swept  helpless  into  the  centre. 
Madder  and  wilder  grows  the  tumult,  while  the  referee 
stands,  watch  in  hand,  over  the  struggling  three. 

"  Stop  that  choking,  Carroll,"  says  Shock  to  the 
little  quarter,  who  is  gripping  The  Don  hard  about 
the  throat. 

"  Get  off,  Mooney,"  cries  Campbell.  "  Get  off  his 
chest  with  your  knees.  Get  off,  I  say,  or  I'll  knock 
your  head  off." 

But  Mooney  persists  in  boring  into  The  Don's 
stomach  with  his  knees,  tugging  viciously  at  the  ball. 
With  a  curse  Campbell  springs  at  him.  But  as  he 
springs  a  dozen  hands  reach  for  him.  There  is  a 
wild  rush  of  twenty  men  for  each  other's  throats. 
Too  close  to  strike  they  can  only  choke  and  scrag  and 
hack  each  other  fiercely.  The  policemen  push  in, 
threatening  with  their  batons,  and  there  is  a  prospect 
of  a  general  fight  when  the.  referee's  whistle  goes. 
Time  is  up.  The  maul  is  over.  'Varsity  has  its  two 
points.  The  score  now  stand  even,  four  to  four,  with 
two  minutes  to  play. 


42  THE    PROSPECTOR 

They  lift  The  Don  from  the  ground.  His  breath 
is  coming  in  gasps  and  he  is  trembling  with  the  tre- 
mendous exertions  of  the  last  three  minutes. 

"  Time  there ! "  calls  out  Shock,  who  has  Balf our 
in  his  arms. 

The  smile  is  all  gone  from  Shock's  face.  As  he 
watches  The  Don  struggling  in  deep  gasps  to  re- 
cover his  breath,  for  the  first  time  in  his  football  life 
he  loses  himself.  He  hands  his  friend  to  a  couple  of 
men  standing  near,  strides  over  to  Mooney,  and  catch- 
ing him  by  the  throat  begins  to  shove  him  back 
through  the  crowd. 

"You  brute,  you!"  he  roars.  "What  kind  of  a 
game  do  you  call  that!  Jumping  on  a  man  when  he 
is  down,  with  your  knees!  For  very  little,"  he  con- 
tinues, struggling  to  get  his  arm  free  from  the  men 
who  are  hanging  on  it,  "  I  would  knock  your  face  off." 

Men  from  both  sides  throw  themselves  upon  Shock 
and  his  foe  and  tear  them  apart. 

"  That's  all  right,  Shock."  cries  The  Don,  laugh- 
ing between  his  gasps,  and  Shock,  suddenly  coming  to 
himself,  slinks  shamefacedly  into  the  crowd. 

"It  is  not  often  Hamish  forgets  himself  in  yon 
fashion,"  says  his  mother,  shaking  her  head.  "  He 
must  be  sorely  tried  indeed,"  she  adds  confidently. 

"  I  ain  quite  sure  of  it,"  replies  Helen.  "  He 
always  comes  out  smiling."  And  the  old  lady  looks 
at  her  approvingly  a  moment,  and  says,  "  Indeed,  and 
you  are  right,  lassie/* 

In  a  few  minutes  The  Don  is  as  fit  as  ever,  and 
slapping  Shock  on  the  back  says  pleasantly,  "Come 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     43 

along,  old  fire-eater.  We've  got  to  win  this  game 
yet,"  and  Shock  goes  off  with  him,  still  looking  much 
ashamed. 

McGill  kicks  from  the  twenty-five  line,  but  before 
the  scrimmage  that  follows  is  over  time  is  called,  with 
an  even  score. 

The  crowd  streams  on  the  field  tumultuously  en- 
thusiastic over  a  game  such  as  has  never  been  seen  on 
that  campus.  Both  sides  are  eager  to  go  on,  and  it 
is  arranged  that  the  time  be  extended  half  an  hour. 

Old  Black  gets  Campbell  aside  and  urges,  "Take 
ten  minutes  off  and  get  your  men  into  quarters." 
Campbell  takes  his  advice  and  the  rubbers  get  vig- 
orously to  work  at  legs  and  loins,  rubbing,  sponging, 
slapping,  until  the  men  declare  themselves  fresh  as 
ever. 

"  Not  hurt,  Don  ?  "  inquires  Campbell  anxiously. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  says  The  Don.  "  It  didn't  bother 
me  at  all.  I  was  winded,  you  see,  before  I  fell." 

"Well,"  says  Campbell,  "we're  going  to  give 
you  a  chance  now.  There's  only  one  thing  to  do, 
men.  Rush  9em.  They  play  best  in  attack,  and  our 
defence  is  safe  enough.  What  do  you  say,  Black  ?  " 

"I  entirely  agree.  But  begin  steady.  I  should 
use  your  whole  half  back  line,  however,  for  a  while. 
They  will  lay  for  Balfour  there." 

"  That's  right,"  says  the  captain.  "  Begin  steady 
and  pass  to  Martin  and  McLaren  for  the  first  while, 
and  then  everyone  give  The  Don  a  chance. 

"  And  Shock,"  calls  out  little  Brown,  "  don't  be  a 
fool,  and  stop  fighting,"  at  which  everybody  roars 


44  THE    PROSPECTOR 

except  Shock  himself,  who,  ashamed  of  his  recent 
display  of  temper,  hurries  off  to  the  field. 

Once  more  the  campus  is  cleared.  Battered  and 
bloody  as  to  features,  torn  and  dishevelled  as  to  attire, 
but  all  eager  and  resolved,  the  teams  again  line  up, 
knowing  well  that  they  have  before  them  a  half  hour 
such  as  they  have  never  yet  faced  in  all  their  football 
career. 

It  is  'Varsity's  kick.  Campbell  takes  it  carefully, 
and  places  it  in  touch  well  within  the  McGill  twenty- 
five.  After  the  throw  in,  the  teams  settle  down  to 
scrimmage  as  steady  as  at  the  first,  with  this  dif- 
ference, however,  that  'Varsity  shows  perceptibly 
weaker.  Back  step  by  step  their  scrimmage  is  forced 
toward  the  centre,  the  retreat  counterbalanced  some- 
what by  the  splendid  individual  boring  of  Campbell 
and  Shock.  But  both  teams  are  alert  and  swift  at 
the  quarters,  fierce  in  tackle  and  playing  with  amazing 
steadiness. 

Suddenly  Carroll  nips  up  the  ball  and  passes  hard 
and  swift  to  the  half  back  immediately  behind  him, 
who  in  turn  passes  far  out  to  Bunch  on  the  left  wing. 
With  a  beautiful  catch  Bunch,  never  slacking  speed, 
runs  round  the  crowd,  dodges  the  quarters,  knocks  off 
Martin,  and  with  a  crowd  of  men  of  both  teams  close 
upon  his  heels,  makes  for  the  line. 

Before  him  stands  Bate  alone.  From  his  tall,  lank 
make  one  might  easily  think  him  none  too  secure  on 
his  legs.  Bunch  determines  to  charge,  and  like  a 
little  bull  rushes  full  at  him. 

But  Bate's  whole  football  life  has  been  one  long 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     45 

series  of  deceptions,  and  so  he  is  quite  prepared  for 
this  kind  of  attack.  As  Bunch  comes  at  him  he 
steps  lightly  aside,  catches  the  half  back  about  the 
neck,  swings  him  round  and  lands  him  prone  with 
such  terrific  impact^  that  the  ball  flies  out  of  his 
grasp. 

Immediately  little  Brown  has  it,  passes  to  Martin, 
who  on  being  tackled  passes  to  The  Don.  The  field 
before  him  is  full  of  the  enemy,  but  The  Don  never 
hesitates.  Doubling,  twisting,  knocking  off,  he 
eludes  man  after  man,  while  the  crowds  on  the  line 
grow  more  and  more  frantic,  and  at  length,  clearing 
the  main  body,  he  sets  off  across  the  field  to  more  open 
country  on  the  'Varsity  left<  Behind  him  come 
Campbell,  Shock,  Martin  and  others,  following  hard ; 
before  him  stand  three  of  the  McGill  defence.  Do- 
rion,  McDonnell,  and  Mooney.  He  has  already  made 
a  great  run,  and  it  looks  as  if  he  cannot  possibly  make 
through. 

First  Dorion  springs  at  him,  but  The  Don's  open 
hand  at  the  end  of  a  rigid  arm  catches  him  full  in 
the  neck,  and  Dorion  goes  down  like  a  stick. 

Big  McDonnell  bears  swiftly  down  upon  him  and 
leaps  high  at  him,  but  The  Don  lowers  his  shoulder, 
catches  McDonnell  below  the  wind  and  slides  him 
over  his  back ;  but  before  he  can  get  up  speed  again 
little  Carroll  is  clutching  at  his  hips,  and  Mooney, 
the  McGill  full  back,  comes  rushing  at  him.  Swing- 
ing round,  The  Don  shakes  Carroll  partly  off,  and 
with  that  fierce  downward  cut  of  his  arm  which  is  his 
special  trick,  sends  the  little  quarter  flying,  and  just 


46  THE    PROSPECTOR 

as  Mooney  tackles,  passes  the  ball  over  his  shoulder 
to  Shock,  who  is  immediately  pounced  upon  by  half 
a  dozen  McGill  men,  but  who,  ere  he  is  held,  passes  to 
Campbell,  who  in  turn  works  forward  a  few  yards,  and 
again  on  being  tackled,  passes  to  The  Don.  It  is  a 
magnificent  bit  of  play. 

The  spectators  have  long  since  passed  all  bounds  of 
control,  and  are  pouring  on  the  field,  yelling  like  mad 
people.  Even  the  imperturbable  old  lady  loses  her 
calm  for  a  moment,  and  griping  Helen's  arm  ex- 
claims, "  Look  at  that,  now !  Man,  man,  yon  is  a 
grand  laddie." 

There  is  no  chance  for  The  Don  to  run,  for  a 
swarm  of  the  McGill  men  stand  between  him  and  the 
line  only  a  few  yards  off.  Then  he  does  the  only 
possible  thing.  Putting  his  head  down  he  plunges 
into  the  crowd  in  front  of  him. 

"  Come  on,  Shock,"  yells  Campbell.  Instantly  a 
dozen  'Varsity  men  respond  to  the  cry  and  fall  in  be- 
hind Campbell  and  Shock,  who,  locking  arms  about 
The  Don,  are  shoving  him  through  for  dear  life. 

There  are  two  minutes  of  fierce  struggle.  Twenty 
men  in  a  mass,  kicking,  scragging,  fighting,  but 
slowly  moving  toward  the  McGill  line,  while  behind 
them  and  around  them  the  excited  spectators  wildly, 
madly  yelling,  leaping,  imploring,  adjuring  by  all 
kinds  of  weird  oaths  to  "  shove  "  or  to  "  hold."  In 
vain  the  McGill  men  throw  themselves  in  the  way  of 
the  advancing  mass.  Steadily,  irresistibly  the  move- 
ment goes  on.  They  are  being  beaten  and  they 
know  it. 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     47 

*'Down!  down!"  yells  big  Huntingdon,  dropping 
on  his  knees  on  the  line  in  front  of  the  tramping,  kick- 
ing 'Varsity  phalanx. 

A  moment's  pause,  and  there  is  a  mass  of  mingling 
arms,  legs,  heads  and  bodies,  piled  on  the  goal  line. 

"Held!  held!"  yell  the  McGill  men  and  their  sup- 
porters. 

But  before  the  referee  can  respond  Shock  seizes 
The  Don  below  the  waist,  lifts  him  clear  of  the  mob, 
and  trampling  on  friend  and  foe  alike,  projects  him 
over  the  struggling  mass  beyond  the  enemy's  line, 
where  he  is  immediately  buried  beneath  a  swarm  of 
McGill  men,  who  savagely  jump  upon  him  and  jam 
his  head  and  body  into  the  turf. 

"He's  in!  he's  in!"  shrieks  Betty,  wildly  waving 
her  hand. 

"Will  it  be  a  win,  think  ye?"  anxiously  inquires 
Shock's  mother.  "It  will  hardly  be  that,  I  doubt. 
But,  eh— h,  yon's  the  lad." 

"  Down !  down ! "  cries  the  'Varsity  captain.  "  Get 
off  the  man !  Get  off  the  man !  Let  him  up,  there ! " 

But  the  McGill  men  are  slow  to  move. 

"  Get  up ! "  roars  Shock,  picking  them  off  and  hurl- 
ing them  aside. 

"Get  up,  men!  Get  up!  That  ball  is  down," 
yells  the  referee  through  the  din,  into  the  ears  of 
those  who  are  holding  The  Don  in  a  death  grip. 

With  difficulty  they  are  persuaded  to  allow  him  to 
rise.  When  he  stands  up,  breathless,  bleeding  at  the 
mouth,  but  otherwise  sound,  the  crowd  of  'Varsity 
admirers  go  ,*ato  a  riot  of  rapture,  throwing  up  caps, 


£8  THE    PROSPECTOR 

hugging  each  other  in  ecstatic  war  dances,  while  the 
team  walk  quietly  about  recovering  their  wind,  and 
resisting  the  efforts  of  their  friends  to  elevate  them. 

"Quit  it!"  growls  Campbell.  "Get  off  the  field! 
Get  back,  you  hoodlums ! " 

Meantime  Huntingdon  is  protesting  to  the  referee. 

"I  claim  that  ball  was  fairly  held,  back  there. 
Balfour  was  brought  to  a  dead  stand." 

"  How  do  you  know,  Huntingdon  ?  "  returns  Camp- 
bell. "Your  head  was  down  in  the  scrim." 

"  I  could  see  his  legs.     I  know  his  boots." 

It  is  true  that  The  Don  has  a  peculiar  toe  on  his 
boots. 

"Oh,"  jeers  Campbell  scornfully,  "that's  all  rot, 
you  know,  Huntingdon." 

"Look  here,  Campbell,  listen  to  what  I  say.  I 
want  you  to  remember  I  am  speaking  the  truth." 

Huntingdon's  quiet  tone  has  its  effect. 

"  I  would  never  think  of  challenging  your  word,*9 
replies  Campbell,  "but  I  think  it  is  quite  impossible 
that  you  could  absolutely  know  that  The  Don  came 
to  a  dead  stand." 

"I  repeat,  I  can  pick  out  Balfour's  boots  from  a 
whole  crowd,  and  I  know  he  was  brought  to  a  stand. 
I  am  prepared  to  swear  that.  Can  any  man  swear 
to  the  contrary  ?  " 

"Why,  certainly,"  cries  Campbell,  "half  a  dozen 
men  can.  There's  Shock,  who  was  right  behind 
him." 

But  Shock  thus  appealed  to,  hesitates.  He  has  an 
unfortunate  conscience. 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     49 

"  I  can't  say  for  sure,"  he  says,  looking  piteously 
at  his  captain. 

" Weren't  you  moving  all  the  time,  Shock?9' 

"Weil,  I  was  shoving  all  the  time." 

"  But  hold  on,"  says  Huntingdon.  "  Will  you  say 
that  Balfour  was  never  brought  to  a  stand?  Will 
you  swear  that?" 

"Well,  I  cannot  say  for  sure,"  replies  Shock  in 
great  distress.  "  It  was  not  very  long,  anyway." 

Yells  of  triumphant  laughter  break  from  the  Mc- 
Gill  crowd. 

The  referee  is  in  great  difficulty.  He  has  a  reputa- 
tion for  courage  and  fairness.  He  hesitates  a  moment 
or  two,  and  then,  while  the  crowd  wait  breathless  for 
his  decision,  says,  "  You  can  all  see  that  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  be  certain,  but  on  the  whole  I  shall  give 
ft  a 'hold.'" 

It  was  a  bitter  moment  to  the  'Varsity  men,  but 
Campbell  is  a  true  sport. 

"  Shut  up,  men,"  he  says  in  answer  to  the  loud 
protests  of  his  team.  "  Get  behind  the  ball." 

Every  second  is  precious  now,  and  the  line  is  only 
three  feet  away. 

Again  the  field  is  cleared.  The  teams,  springing 
to  their  places  in  the  scrimmage,  began  to  shove 
furiously  before  the  ball  is  in  play. 

"  Get  up,  men ! "  says  the  referee.  "  You  must 
get  up.  Let  me  get  this  ball  in.  Get  up,  McGill! 
Get  off  your  knees ! "  for  the  McGill  men  are  on  their 
goal  line  in  an  attitude  of  devotion. 

Again  and  again  the  scrimmage  is  formed,  only  to 


50  THE    PROSPECTOR 

be  broken  by  the  eagerness  of  the  combatants.  At 
length  the  referee  succeeds  in  placing  the  ball.  In- 
stantly Shock  is  upon  it,  and  begins  to  crawl  toward 
the  line  with  half  a  dozen  men  on  his  back,  gripping 
him  by  nose,  ears,  face,  throat,  wherever  a  hand  can 
find  a  vulnerable  spot. 

"  Hold  there ! "  calls  the  referee.     "  'Varsity  ball." 

"  Get  off  the  man !  Get  off !  "  cry  the  'Varsity  men, 
pulling  the  McGill  fellows  by  legs  and  heads,  till  at 
length  Shock  rises  from  the  bottom  of  the  heap, 
grimy,  bloody,  but  smiling,  grimly  holding  to  the  ball. 
He  has  made  six  inches.  The  line  is  two  feet  and 
a  half  away. 

It  is  again  'Varsity's  ball,  however,  and  that  means 
a  great  deal,  for  with  Campbell  lies  the  choice  of  the 
moment  for  attack. 

Placing  Shock  on  the  wing,  and  summoning  his 
halves  and  quarters,  Campbell  prepares  for  a  supreme 
effort.  It  is  obviously  the  place  for  the  screw. 

The  McGill  men  are  down,  crouching  on  hands  and 
feet,  some  on  their  knees. 

Campbell  refuses  to  play  and  appeals  to  the  referee 
in  a  tone  of  righteous  indignation,  "What  sort  of 
game  is  this  ?  Look  at  those  fellows ! " 

"Get  up  McGill!  Get  up,  or  I'll  penalise  you,5' 
says  the  referee.  Everyone  knows  he  will  keep  his 
word.  There  is  a  movement  on  the  part  of  McGill 
to  rise.  Campbell  seizes  the  opportunity,  lowers  his 
head,  and  with  a  yell  drops  the  ball  in  front  of  Shock. 
In  the  whirl  of  the  screw  the  ball  slips  out  to  Brown, 
who  tips  it  to  The  Don,  but  before  he  can  take  a 


'VARSITY    VERSUS     McGILL     51 

single  step  half  a  dozen  men  are  upon  him  and  he  is 
shoved  back  a  couple  of  feet. 

"Man,  man,"  ejaculates  the  old  lady,  "will  you 
not  be  careful!" 

"  I  say  ! "  exclaims  old  Black  to  a  McGill  enthusiast 
whom  he  had  fought  in  the  famous  championship  bat- 
tle four  years  ago.  "  This  is  something  like." 

"  Great  ball,"  replies  his  friend.  "  We'll  hold  them 
yet.  I've  often  seen  a  ball  forced  back  from  two 
feet  off  the  line." 

It  is  still  the  'Varsity  ball.  The  crowds  are  howl- 
ing like  maniacs,  while  the  policeman  and  field  censors 
are  vainly  trying  to  keep  the  field  decently  clear. 

The  Don  resigns  the  ball  to  the  captain  and  falls 
in  behind.  Every  man  is  wet,  panting,  disfigured, 
but  eager  for  the  fight.  Again  the  scrim  forms,  only 
to  fall  upon  the  ball. 

"  Dead  ball,"  announces  the  referee,  and  both  teams 
begin  to  manoeuvre  for  advantage  of  position.  A  few 
inches  is  a  serious  thing. 

Again  the  ball  is  placed  and  the  men  throw  them- 
selves upon  it,  Shock  as  usual  at  the  bottom  of  the 
heap  with  the  ball  under  him. 

Old  Black  runs  up  through  the  crowd  and  whispers 
in  Campbell's  ear,  "Put  Balfour  and  Martin  in  the 
scrim.  They  are  fresher."  He  has  noticed  that  the 
scrim  line  on  both  sides  is  growing  stale,  and  can  do 
no  more  than  grimly  hold  on.  At  once  Campbell  sees 
the  wisdom  of  this  suggestion.  The  Don,  though  not 
so  heavy  as  Shock,  is  quite  as  strong,  and  is  quicker 
vthan  the  big  centre,  who  is  beginning  to  show  the 


52  THE    PROSPECTOR 

effect  of  the  tremendous  series  of  scrimmages  he  has 
just  passed  through.  Martin,  though  neither  so 
strong  nor  so  heavy,  is  like  an  eeL 

Quietly  Campbell  thrusts  the  halves  into  the  first 
line  on  the  right,  whispering  to  Shock,  "  Let  Balf our 
have  it,  and  back  him  up." 

As  The  Don  gets  the  ball  Campbell  throws  him- 
self behind  him  with  the  yell,  "  'Varsity !  now ! "  At 
the  same  instant  The  Don  drops  the  ball,  and  with  the 
weight  of  the  whole  team  behind  him  begins  to  bore 
through  the  enemy. 

For  a  few  moments  both  teams  hang  in  the  balance, 
neither  giving  an  inch,  when  old  Black,  yelling  and 
waving  wildly,  attracts  the  attention  of  Bate. 

"  Go  in ! "  he  cries.  "  Go  in ! "  and  Bate,  coming 
up  with  a  rush,  throws  himself  behind  the  scrim. 

His  weight  turns  the  scale.  Slowly  at  first,  but 
gaining  momentum  with  every  inch,  the  mass  yields, 
sways,  and  begins  to  move.  The  McGill  men,  shov- 
ing, hacking,  scragging,  fighting  fiercely,  finally 
dropping  on  their  knees,  strive  to  check  that  relent- 
less advance.  It  is  in  vain.  Their  hour  has  come. 

With  hoarse  cries,  regardless  of  kicks  and  blows, 
trampling  on  prostrate  foes,  and  followed  by  a  mob 
of  spectators  tumultuously  cheering,  the  'Varsity 
wedge  cleaves  its  way,  till  on  the  other  side  The  Don 
appears  with  the  ball  hugged  to  his  breast  and  Hunt- 
ingdon hanging  to  his  throat.  A  final  rush  and  the 
ball  is  down. 

"  The  ball  is  down ! "  cries  the  referee,  and  almost 
immediately  time  is  called. 


'VARSITY    VERSUS    McGILL     53 

The  great  match  is  over.  By  four  points  'Varsity 
holds  the  championship  of  the  Dominion. 

"  The  greatest  match  ever  played  on  this  ground," 
cries  old  Black,  pushing  through  the  crowd  to  Camp- 
bell, with  both  hands  outstretched. 

After  him  comes  the  Montreal  captain. 

"  I  congratulate  you  most  heartily,"  he  says,  in  a 
voice  that  breaks  in  spite  of  all  he  can  do. 

"  Thanks,  old  man,"  says  Campbell  quietly.  "  It 
was  a  case  of  sheer  luck." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replies  Huntingdon,  recovering 
himself.  "You  have  a  great  team.  I  never  saw  a 
better." 

"Well,"  replies  Campbell  heartily,  "I  have  just 
seen  as  good,  and  there's  none  we  would  rather  win 
from  than  McGill." 

''And  none,"  replies  Huntingdon^  " McGill  would 
rather  lick  than  'Varsity." 

Meantime  Shock,  breaking  from  a  crowd  of  ad* 
mirers  who  are  bound  to  carry  him  in  on  their 
shoulders,  makes  for  the  Fairbanks  carriage,  and 
greets  his  mother  quietly. 

"  Well,  mother,  it's  over  at  last." 

"  Ay,  it  is.  Poor  fellows,  they  will  be  feeling  bad. 
But  come  along,  laddie.  You  will  be  needing  your 
supper,  I  doubt." 

Shock  laughs  loud.  He  knows  his  mother,  and 
needs  no  words  to  tell  him  her  heart  is  bursting  with 
pride  and  triumph. 

"  Come  in.  Let  us  have  the  glorj  of  driving  you 
home,"  cries  Betty. 


54r  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"In  this  garb?"  laughs  Shock. 

"  That's  the  garb  of  your  glory,"  says  Helen,  her 
fine  eyes  lustrous  with  excitement. 

"  Come,  Hamish  man,  you  will  get  your  things  and 
we  will  be  waiting  for  you." 

"  Very  well,"  he  replies,  turning  away.  "  I  will 
be  only  a  minute." 

He  is  not  allowed  to  escape,  but  with  a  roar  the 
crowd  seize  him,  lift  him  shoulder  high,  and  chanting, 
"  Shock !  Shock !  we — like — Shock !  "  bear  him  away 
in  triumph. 

"  Eh,  what  are  the  daft  laddies  saying  now  ?  "  in- 
quires the  old  lady,  struggling  hard  to  keep  out  of 
her  voice  the  pride  that  shone  in  her  eyes. 

"Listen,"  cries  Helen,  her  eyes  shining  with  the 
same  light.  "  Listen  to  them,"  and  beating  time  with 
her  hand  she  j  oins  in  the  chant,  "  Shock !  Shock !  we 
—like— Shock. " 


m 

THE  VOICE   IN  THE   WILDERNESS 

THE  Superintendent  had  come  from  the 
West  on  his  spring  round-up.  New  settle- 
ments in  anticipation  of  and  following  the 
new  Railway,  old  settlements  in  'British 
Columbia  valleys  formed  twenty  years  ago  and 
forgotten,  ranches  of  the  foot-hill  country,  the  min- 
ing camps  to  the  north  and  south  of  the  new  line — 
these  were  beginning  to  fire  the  imagination  of  older 
Canada.  Fresh  from  the  new  and  wonderful  land 
lying  west  of  the  Great  Lakes,  with  its  spell  upon  him, 
its  miseries,  its  infamies,  its  loneliness  aching  in  his 
heart,  but  with  the  starlight  of  its  promise  burning  in 
his  eyes,  he  came  to  tell  the  men  of  the  Colleges  of 
their  duty,  their  privilege,  their  opportunity  waiting 
in  the  West.  For  the  most  part  his  was  a  voice  cry- 
ing in  the  wilderness.  Not  yet  had  Canadians  come 
to  their  faith  in  their  Western  Empire.  Among  the 
great  leaders  were  still  found  those  who  poured  con- 
tempt upon  the  project  of  the  trans-continental  rail- 
way, and  even  those  who  favoured  the  scheme  based 
their  support  upon  political  rather  than  upon  eco- 
nomic grounds.  It  was  all  so  far  away  and  all  so 
unreal  that  men  who  prided  themselves  upon  being 
governed  by  shrewd  business  sense  held  aloof  from 

55 


56  THE    PROSPECTOR 

western  enterprises,  waiting  in  calm  assurance  for 
their  certain  collapse.  Still,  here  and  there  men  like 
Bompas,  McLean,  McDougall,  and  Robertson  were 
holding  high  the  light  that  fell  upon  prairie  and  foot- 
hill, mountain  peak  and  canyon,  wheVe  speculators, 
adventurers,  broken  men,  men  with  shamed  names 
seeking  hiding,  and  human  wolves  seeking  their  prey 
were  pouring  in. 

Discouraged  with  the  results  of  his  work  in  the 
Eastern  Colleges,  the  Superintendent  arrived  at  Knox, 
and  to-night  he  stood  facing  the  crowd  of  students 
and  their  friends  that  filled  the  long  Dining  Hall  to 
overflowing.  With  heart  hot  from  disappointment 
and  voice  strident  with  intensity  of  emotion,  he  told  of 
the  things  he  had  seen  and  heard  in  that  great  new 
land.  Descriptions  of  scenery,  statistics,  tales  hu- 
morous and  pathetic,  patriotic  appeal,  and  prophetic 
vision  came  pouring  forth  in  an  overwhelming  flood 
from  the  great  man,  who  »e  tall,  sinewy  form  swayed 
and  rocked  in  his  passion,  and  whose  Scotch  voice 
burred  through  his  sonorous  periods.  "  For  your 
Church,  for  your  fellowmen,  for  Canada,"  rang  out 
his  last  appeal,  and  the  men  passed  out  into  the  cor- 
ridor toward  the  Entrance  Hall,  silent  or  conversing 
in  low,  earnest  tones.  There  was  none  of  the  usual 
chaffing  or  larking.  They  had  been  thinking  great 
thoughts  and  seeing  great  visions. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you  for  asking  me  in  to-night, 
Lloyd,"  said  The  Don.  His  voice  was  quiet  and  his 
fine  eyes  were  lustrous  with  light.  "  That  man  ought 
to  be  in  Parliament.  I  shall  see  that  country  soon,  I 


VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS  57 

hope.  What  a  master  he  is !  What  a  grasp !  What 
handling  of  facts !  There's  a  great  Canadian,  I  say, 
and  he  ought  to  be  in  Parliament." 

The  men  gathered  round,  for  the  great  'Varsity 
half  back  was  well  known  and  well  liked  in  that  com- 
pany ;  but  they  all  knew  him  as  one  of  the  gay  'Var- 
sity set,  and  some  of  the  older  men  knew,  too,  that  in 
his  early  college  career  were  passages  that  neither  he 
nor  his  friends  cared  to  remember.  Hence  all  of 
them,  but  especially  Shock,  whom  he  loved,  and  Lloyd, 
whom  he  greatly  admired,  listened  with  surprise  to 
The  Don's  enthusiastic  words,  for  they  both  had  stood 
beside  him  in  those  dark  days,  and  had  played  toward 
him  the  brother's  part.  The  men  waited  in  silence  for 
Lloyd's  reply.  They  knew  him  to  be  by  far  the 
strongest  man  in  the  college,  the  readiest  in  debate, 
as  well  as  the  most  popular  in  the  pulpit;  but,  with 
the  sure  instinct  of  college  men,  they  had  come  to 
recognise  his  ambitious  spirit,  and,  indeed,  to  be  more 
influenced  by  it  tha.i  they  would  have  cared  to 
acknowledge. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lloyd,  "  it  was  certainly  a  statesman- 
like address.  It  contained  all  the  elements  of  a  great 
speech.  But  he — of  course — well — he  sees  only  one 
thing— The  West." 

"  That's  right,"  said  little  Brown,  who  had  come  in 
at  Shock's  earnest  invitation,  and  because  he  was 
anxious  to  hear  about  the  new  country  from  one  who 
was  coming  to  be  recognised  as  an  authority,  "  he 
sees  one  thing  sure  enough.  I  say,  what  a  drummer 
he'd  make!  Talk  like  that  is  worth  $100  a  minute 


58  THE    PROSPECTOR 

to  any  firm.  I'll  put  my  Governor  on  to  him.  When 
that  chap  opened  his  sample  case  he  wouldn't  talk 
weather  and  politics,  and  then  sidle  up  to  business. 
Not  much!  He'd  give  them  Brown's  Axle  Oil, 
Brown's  Baking  Powder,  or  anything  else  of  Brown's 
he  was  showing,  till  his  customer  would  see  nothing 
but  Brown's  Axle  Oil  and  Brown's  Baking  Powder  all 
over  his  shop,  and  he'd  be  reaching  for  the  whole  out- 
put. One  thing !  You  bet !  " 

A  general  laugh  of  approval  followed  Brown's 
speech. 

"  That's  true  enough,"  said  Lloyd  in  a  tone  of  calm 
superiority,  "  but  there  is  other  work  to  do  and  other 
places  to  do  it  in." 

"  The  Park  Church,  for  instance,  eh,  Lloyd?  "  sug- 
gested the  voice  slyly. 

"Why  not?"  answered  Lloyd.  "The  centres 
must  be  manned — that's  a  safe  principle  in  strat- 

egy." 

"  Certainly,"  cried  another  voice  ironically.  "  Our 
neglected  masses ! " 

"Yes,  and  neglected  classes,  too."  Lloyd's  tone 
was  earnest  and  sincere. 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Lloyd,"  said  The  Don  emphati- 
cally, "  if  any  fellows  need  to  be,  ah — well — shaken 
up,  you  know,  it's  us  poor  devils  who  attend  the  city 
churches.  For  my  part,  I  would  like  to  see  you  in 
the  Park  Church,  and  I  promise  you  I  would  go 
regularly." 

On  all  sides  there  was  frank  approval  of  The  Don's 
position,  while  Lloyd,  flushed  and  laughing,  lightly 


VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS  59 

replied :  "  Oh,  there  won't  be  any  trouble,  I  fancy,  in 
getting  a  man  for  the  Park  Church." 

"  Not  in  the  least,  I  assure  you,"  said  Brown. 
"  Brown  Bros.,  Commission  Merchants,  etc.,  etc.,  will 
undertake  to  supply  men  in  half-dozen  lots  willing  for 
a  consideration  to  offer  themselves  upon  the  altar  of 
Park  Church." 

"  There's  more  than  willingness  necessary,  unfor- 
tunately, and  besides,  lots  of  men  would  be  willing  to 
go  West,"  answered  Lloyd. 

"  Yes,  and  lots  of  men  deucedly  unwilling,  too, 
from  what  your  old  man  there  says,  not  to  speak  of 
the  young  lady,  who  apparently  must  also  be  willing. 
Oh !  I  say,  wasn't  that  a  great  yarn ;  and  if  ever  that 
chap  gets  a  look  at  himself  from  that  particular  point 
of  view,  that  '11  be  the  time  to  buy  him." 

"  Brown,  my  boy,"  said  The  Don  solemnly,  "  your 
limitations  are  obvious.  The  commercial  in  you  has 
run  to  seed." 

''  That  may  be,  but  I  can  spot  a  man  that  knows 
how  to  show  his  goods,  and  when  that  old  gentleman 
set  forth  the  West  in  those  high  lights  of  his,  I  tell 
you  what,  I  almost  wished  I  was  a  Theologue." 

"What  a  pity  you  are  not,"  replied  The  Don 
thoughtfully,  "  for  apparently  they  want  strong 
men."  At  which  the  crowd  again  laughed. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Shock  ?  "  suggested  some- 
one ;  "  he's  a  good  strong  man."  There  was  a  gen- 
eral laugh. 

"  You're  the  man,  Shock.  You  would  clear  out 
those  saloons." 


60  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Can  you  ride  a  broncho.  Shock  ?  " 

At  the  good-natured  chaff  Shock  blushed  a  deeper 
red  than  usual.  No  one  expected  much  of  poor  Shock. 
Indeed,  most  of  his  classmates  wondered  if  he  would 
ever  "  get  a  place,"  and  none  more  than  Shock  him- 
self. 

But  Brown,  resenting  the  laugh  and  its  all  too 
evident  implication,  replied  indignantly :  "  You  bet 
Shock's  the  man  for  the  West,  or  any  place  else  where 
solid  men  are  wanted,  and  where  Shock  goes  there  will 
be  something  doing !  And,"  striking  an  attitude, 
"  the  country  will  be  the  better  for  it !  Oh,  I  am  a 
Canadian ! "  he  continued,  smiting  his  breast  dramat- 
ically. "  Come  along,  Shock,  we've  got  an  appoint- 
ment," and  Brown,  linking  his  arm  affectionately 
through  that  of  his  big  friend,  stuck  his  cap  on  the 
back  of  his  head  and  marched  off  whistling  "  The 
Maple  Leaf." 

"  Say ! "  he  cried,  as  he  passed  out  into  the  street, 
"  won't  a  lot  of  those  fellows  volunteer,  or  will  they 
hunt  round  for  a  nice  little  bunk  in  Ontario  ?  " 

"  Many  would  like  to  go  if  t^v  could,"  said  Shock 
thoughtfully,  "  but  you  know  there  are  many  things 
that  must  be  considered." 

"Young  ladies,  eh?"  asked  Brown  with  a  laugh. 
"Oh!  didn't  he  tell  that  yarn  well?  It  was  great. 
But  I'd  hate  to  be  the  fellow." 

"  But  you  are  not  fair,"  replied  Shock.  "  A  man 
can't  answer  every  appeal.  He  must  think  what  he 
is  fit  for,  and,  in  short,  where  he  is  called  to  work. 
There's  Lloyd,  now " 


VOICE    IN    THE    WILDERNESS  61 

"  Oh,  Lloyd ! "  broke  in  Brown  impatiently.  "  He's 
a  quitter." 

"  Not  he.     He's  anything  but  that." 

"  No,"  owned  Brown,  "  he's  not  a  quitter,  but  he 
puts  in  overtime  thinking  of  what's  good  for  Lloyd. 
Of  course,  I  do  that  sort  of  thing  myself,  but  from  a 
fellow  like  Lloyd  one  expects  something  better." 

Soon  they  were  at  Shock's  door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Shock  cordially,  "  mother  will  be 
glad  to  see  you." 

And  Brown  went  in. 


IV 
ONLY  ONE  CLAIM 

IT  always  gave  Brown  a  sense  of  content  to  enter 
the  Macgregor  cottage.  Even  among  the  thrifty 
North  country  folk  the  widow  Macgregor's  home, 
while  not  as  pretentious  as  those  of  the  well-to-do 
farmers,  had  been  famous  as  a  model  of  tidy  house- 
keeping. Her  present  home  was  a  little  cottage  of 
three  rooms  with  the  kitchen  at  the  back.  The  front 
room  where  Mrs.  Macgregor  received  her  few  visitors, 
and  where  Shock  did  most  of  his  reading,  except  when 
driven  to  his  bedroom  by  the  said  visitors,  was  lighted 
by  two  candles  in  high,  polished,  old-fashioned  brass 
candlesticks,  and  by  the  fire  from  the  hearth,  which 
radiated  a  peace  and  comfort  which  even  the  shiny 
hair-cloth  chairs  and  sofa  and  the  remaining  somewhat 
severe  furniture  of  the  room  could  not  chill.  It  was 
the  hearth  and  mantel  that  had  decided  Mrs.  Mac- 
gregor and  Shock  in  their  purchase  of  the  little  cot- 
tage, which  in  many  eyes  was  none  too  desirable. 
On  the  walls  hung  old-fashioned  prints  of  Robbie 
Burns  and  his  Highland  Mary,  the  Queen  and  the 
Prince  Consort,  one  or  two  quaint  family  groups,  and 
over  the  mantel  a  large  portrait  of  a  tall  soldier  in 
full  Highland  dress.  Upon  a  bracket  in  a  corner 
stood  a  glass  case  enclosing  a  wreath  of  flowers 

62 


ONLY   ONE    CLAIM  63 

wrought  in  worsted,  and  under  it  in  a  frame  hung  a 
sampler  with  the  Lord's  Prayer  similarly  wrought. 
On  one  side  of  the  room  stood  a  clock  upon  a  shelf, 
flanked  by  the  Family  Bible  and  such  books  as  "The 
Saint's  Rest,"  "Holy  Living,"  "The  Fourfold 
State,"  "  Scots  Worthies,"  all  ancient  and  well  worn. 
On  the  other  side  stood  a  bookcase  which  was  Shock's, 
and  beside  it  a  table  where  he  did  his  work.  Alto- 
gether it  was  a  very  plain  room,  but  the  fireplace  and 
the  shining  candlesticks  and  the  rag  carpet  on  the 
floor  redeemed  it  from  any  feeling  of  discomfort, 
while  the  flowers  that  filled  the  windows  lent  an  air  of 
purity  and  sweetness. 

"  Come  away,  my  lad,  come  away,"  said  Mrs.  Mac- 
gregor,  who  sat  knitting  by  the  fire.  "  The  night  is 
chill  enough.  Come  away  up  to  the  fire." 

"  Thanks,  Mrs.  Macgregor,"  said  Brown,  "  it  does 
me  good  to  look  at  you  by  the  fire  there  with  your  knit- 
ting. When  I'm  an  old  man  I  only  hope  I'll  have  a 
cozy  hearthstone  like  this  to  draw  up  to,  and  on  the 
other  side  a  cozy  old  lady  like  you  with  pink  cheeks 
like  these  which  I  must  now  kiss." 

"  Tut,  tut,  it's  a  daft  laddie  you  are  whatever," 
said  the  old  lady,  blushing  a  little,  but  not  ill-pleased. 
"  Sit  ye  down  yonder." 

Brown,  ever  since  his  illness,  when  Mrs.  Macgregor 
and  Shock  had  nursed  him  back  from  death's  door 
two  years  ago,  was  one  of  the  family,  and,  indeed,  he 
used  endearments  with  the  old  lady  that  the  unde- 
monstrative Shock  would  never  have  dared  to  use. 

"Ye're  late,  Hamish.     Surely  yon  man  had  much 


64  THE    PROSPECTOR 

to  says"  said  his  mother,  looking  lovingly  upon  her 
great,  sturdy  son. 

"  That  he  had,  mother,  and  great  it  was,  I  can  tell 

you." 

Then  Shock  proceeded,  after  his  habit,  to  give  his 
mother  a  full  share  of  what  he  had  been  enjoying. 
Mrs.  Macgregor  listened  intently,  pausing  now  and 
then  in  her  knitting  to  ejaculate,  "  Well-a-well !  " 
"  Look  at  that,  now !  "  "  Hear  to  him !  "  When  Shock 
had  finished,  Brown  broke  in :  "  It  was  truly  magnifi- 
cent, I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Macgregor,  and  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  man!  And  his  yarns!  Oh,  he  is  truly 
great ! " 

"  And  what  would  he  be  doing  at  the  college  ?  " 
enquired  the  old  lady.  "  There  would  not  be  much 
money  there,  I  doubt.'5 

"  Men,  mother,  men,"  cried  Shock  with  some  excite- 
ment. "  Volunteers  for  the  Great  West,  and  a  hard 
time  he  is  having,  too,  what  with  the  foreign  field,  and 
needy  vacancies  in  this  country,  and  city  pulpits, 
and  the  like." 

Mrs.  Macgregor  sat  silent,  her  needles  ilying  fast 
and  her  lips  pressed  together. 

"  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  him,  Mrs.  Mac- 
gregor," said  Brown,  enthusiastically.  "  He  has  a 
tongue  like  a  rasp,  and  at  times  it  takes  off  the  skin. 
That  was  fine,  Shock,  about  the  fellows  who  could  not 
give  him  answer  till  they  had  asked  the  Lord  about  it. 
' 1  find  a  good  many  men/  the  old  chap  said,  '  who, 
after  anxiously  enquiring  as  to  the  work  expected  of 
them,  remuneration,  prospects  of  advance,  etc.,  always 


ONLY   ONE    CLAIM  65 

want  to  lay  the  matter  before  the  Lord  before  giving 
their  answer.  And  I  am  beginning  to  think  that  the 
Lord  has  some  grudge  against  the  West,  for  almost 
invariably  He  appears  to  advise  these  men  to  leave  it 
severely  alone.'  Oh,  it  was  great !  "  Little  Brown 
hugged  his  knee  in  delight  at  the  memory  of  that 
rasping  tongue. 

"  But  surely  there  are  plenty  of  men,"  said  Mrs. 
Maegregor  a  little  impatiently,  "  for  there's  no  want 
of  them  whateffer  when  a  congregation  faUs  vacant." 

" '  That's  so,"  replied  Brown ;  "  but  you  see  he  wants 
only  first-class  men — men  ready  for  anything  in  the 
way  of  hardship,  and  not  to  be  daunted  by  man  or 
devil." 

"Ou  ay!"  said  the  old  lady,  nodding  her  head 
grimly;  "he  will  not  be  finding  so  many  of  yon 
kind." 

"  But  it  must  be  a  great  country,"  went  on  Brown. 
"  You  ought  to  hear  him  tell  of  the  rivers  with  sands 
of  gold,  running  through  beds  of  coal  sixty  feet 
thick." 

The  old  lady  shook  her  cap  at  him,  peering  over  her 
glasses.  "  Ye're  a  gay  callant,  and  you  will  be  tak- 
ing your  fun  off  me." 

"  But  it's  true.     Ask  Shock  there." 

"What?"  said  Shock,  waking  up  from  a  deep 
study.  Brown  explained. 

"  Yes,"  said  Shock.  "  The  sands  of  the  Saskatch- 
ewan are  full  of  gold,  and  you  know,  mother,  about 
the  rivers  in  Cariboo." 

"Ay,  I  remember  fine  the  Cariboo,  and  Cariboo 


66  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Cameron  and  his  gold.  But  not  much  good  did  It 
do  him,  poor  fellow." 

"But,"  said  Shock,  gazing  into  the  fire,  "it  was 
terrible  to  hear  his  tales  of  these  men  in  the  mines 
with  their  saloons  and  awful  gambling  places,  and  the 
men  and  women  in  their  lonely  shacks  in  the  foot-hills. 
My !  I  could  see  them  all." 

Mrs.  Macgregor  looked  sharply  into  her  son's  face, 
then  laying  her  kitting  down  in  her  lap  she  turned 
to  him  and  said  severely,  "And  what  took  them  out 
yonder?  And  did  they  not  know  what-na  country 
it  was  before  they  went  out  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Shock,  still  looking  into  the  fire,  "but 
there  they  are,  Mother,  there  they  are,  and  no  living 
soul  to  speak  a  good  word  to  them." 

"Well  then,"  said  the  old  lady,  even  more  im- 
patiently, "  let  them  put  up  with  it,  as  better  before 
them  have  done  to  their  credit,  ay,  and  to  their  good 
as  well." 

"Meantime  the  saloons  and  worse  are  getting 
them,"  replied  Shock,  "  and  fine  fellows  they  are,  too, 
he  says." 

"  And  is  yon  man  wanting  the  lads  from  the  college 
to  go  out  yonder  to  those  terrible-like  mines  and 
things  so  far  from  their  homes?  Why  does  he  not 
send  the  men  who  are  wanting  places?"  Mrs.  Mac- 
gregor's  tone  was  unusually  sharp.  Both  Shock  and 
Brown  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  you  may  look,"  she  went  on,  "  but  I  say  let 
them  that's  not  needed  here  go  out  yonder,  and  there 
will  be  plenty  of  them,  I  warrant." 


ONLY  ONE   CLAIM  67V 

"  '  And  they'd  none  of  them  be  missed,' "  sang 
Brown. 

"I  doubt  they  wouldn't  do,"  said  Shock,  shaking 
his  head  sadly. 

"Well,  mother,"  cried  Brown,  "you'll  have  a 
chance  of  hearing  him  yourself  to-morrow  morning, 
for  he  is  going  to  preach  in  your  church,  I  see." 

The  old  lady  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Indeed, 
and  I  wish  our  meenister  wouldn't  be  so  ready  with 
his  pulpit  for  every  Bill  and  Bob  that  comes  the 
way.  He  will  not  be  needing  a  rest  again,  will  he?  " 

Shock  gazed  at  his  mother  in  sheer  amazement.  He 
had  never  seen  her  like  this  before.  This  bitter  im- 
patience was  so  unlike  her  usual  calm,  dignified  self- 
control. 

"But  mother,"  he  ventured,  "the  cause  will  be 
needing  money  and  the  people  will  need  to  hear 
about  it,  surely." 

"  Oh,  as  to  that5"  she  answered  in  a  relieved  tone, 
"it  is  not  much  that  we  can  give,  but  what  we  can 
we  will,  and,  indeed,  there  are  many  of  them  in  that 
Kirk  that  would  be  the  better  of  giving  a  little  of 
their  money.  But,  lad,"  she  added  as  if  dismissing  a 
painful  subject,  "you  must  be  at  your  books." 

"Which  means  I  must  go.  I  know  you,  Mother 
Macgregor,"  said  Brown,  using  his  pet  name  for  the 
woman  who  had  for  two  years  been  more  of  a  mother 
to  him  than  his  own. 

"  Ay,  and  within  a  few  weeks  you  will  be  wishing, 
as  well,  that  someone  had  set  you  to  your  books,  for 
the  examinators  wfll  be  upon  you." 


68  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"And,  doubtless,  shear  me  as  bare  as  Delilah  did 
Samson  of  old.  But  I  am  not  promising  you  I  am 
going  to  work.  My  physician  warns  me  against  work 
on  Saturday  nights,  so  I  am  going  to  hunt  up  The 
Don.9' 

"  Indeed  then,  you  will  know  well  where  to  look  for 
him,"  said  the  old  lady  shrewdly. 

"  Ah,  mother,  you're  too  sharp  for  any  of  us.  Not 
much  escapes  your  eyes." 

"Indeed,  one  does  not  require  eyes  to  see  some 
things,  and-yon  laddie  is  daft  enough." 

"  Daf t's  the  word,"  said  Brown,  "  and  has  been  for 
the  last  three  years.  Is  not  it  astonishing  and  pro- 
foundly humiliating,"  he  added  solemnly,  "to  see  a 
chit  of  a  girl,  just  because  she  has  brown  curls  and 
brown  eyes  with  a  most  bewildering  skill  in  using 
them,  so  twiddle  a  man?  It  passes  my  compre- 
hension." 

The  old  lady  shook  her  head  at  him.  "  Wait  you, 
my  lad.  Your  day  will  come." 

"  I  hear  The  Don  has  got  the  offer  of  a  great  ap- 
pointment in  connection  with  the  new  railway  in  that 
country  and  I  fear  that  means  trouble  for  him.  There 
are  those  who  would  be  delighted  to  see  him  out  of  the 
way  for  a  couple  of  years  or  so." 

But  the  old  lady  would  not  gossip,  so  Brown  was 
forced  to  drop  the  subject  with  the  remark,  "  But 
I'll  do  what  I  can  to  assist  the  Fates,  and  I'll  begin 
by  bringing  both  those  young  ladies  to  hear  your 
big  gun  to-morrow  if  I  can,  Shock.  They  ought  to 
know  more  about  their  own  country." 


ONLY   ONE   CLAIM  69 

Shock  glanced  up  quickly  as  if  to  speak,  but  seemed 
to  think  better  of  it  and  poked  the  fire  instead. 

"  I  doubt  they  would  be  more  profited  in  their  own 
church,"  said  Mrs.  Macgregor.  "  *  Traivellin'  sheep 
are  sair  tae  keep,'  as  they  say  in  the  South  country. 
No,  it's  little  enough  the  poor  things  will  be  getting  in 
yon  church  of  theirs  with  their  read  prayers  and  their 
bit  sairmon — a  sairmonette,  they  will  be  calling  it. 
Ay,  a  sairmonette!"  The  old  lady  indulged  herself 
in  a  quiet  chuckle  of  indescribable  contempt. 

"Why,  mother,"  said  Shock  in  a  reproving  tone, 
"  don't  you  know  that  their  minister  is  just  a  splen- 
did preacher.  There  is  no  better  in  the  city." 

"And  that's  not  saying  much,"  said  the  old  lady. 
"  But  I'm  glad  to  hear  it." 

"My!  mother,  but  you  are  censorious  to-night. 
You  can't  expect  to  find  men  like  Candlish,  Chalmers, 
and  Macdonald  of  Ferintosh  in  every  age." 

"  Ay,"  said  the  old  lady  with  an  emphatic  shake  of 
her  head,  "  and  that's  a  true  word.  Men  like  yon  are 
not  to  be  found,  and  like  McCheyne  and  Burns  and 
Guthrie  and  the  rest  of  them.  Oh!  it  iss  manys 
the  Sabbath  morning  when  I  wass  a  lass,  that  I  walked 
with  my  shoes  and  stockings  in  my  hand  down  the  glen 
to  hear  these  men  preach.  And  yon  was  the  preach- 
ing. Yon  was  the  preaching.  None  of  your  puny, 
peeping,  fifteen-meenute  sairmonettes,  but  preaching, 
terrible  heart-smiting  preaching."  The  old  lady  had 
ceased  her  knitting  and  was  sitting  erect  in  her  chair 
gazing  straight  before  her.  The  young  men  sat 
silent,  fearing  to  break  the  spell  that  was  upon 


70  THE    PROSPECTOR 

her,  and  waiting  eagerly  for  what  they  knew  was 
coming. 

"  Man !  man !  "  she  continued,  "  those  were  the  days ! 
and  those  were  the  men!  I  have  heard  such  preach- 
ing as  would  cause  your  heart  to  quake  within  you 
and  make  you  to  listen  with  the  fear  of  death  upon  you 
lest  it  should  stop." 

"  It  must  have  been  terrible  preaching,  indeed,'5 
said  Brown  softly. 

"  Terrible !  ay,  terrible's  the  word.  Lad,  lad,"  said 
the  old  lady,  turning  upon  Brown  her  piercing  blue- 
grey  eyes,  "  in  the  old  Mullin  Church  I  have  seen  the 
very  rafters  throbbing,  and  strong  men  and  women 
swaying  like  the  tree-tops  in  the  glen  while  Burns  was 
raging  forth  upon  them  like  the  Tummel  in  spate, 
while  visions  of  the  eternal  things — the  throne  of  God 
and  the  Judgment  Day — filled  our  eyes."  She  paused 
a  few  moments  and  then  sinking  back  into  her  chair 
she  went  on,  "  Ay,  terrible  preaching,  yon,  like  the 
storm-blast  sweeping  the  hillsides  and  rending  the 
firs  in  the  Pass.  Yes !  yes !  But  gentle  at  times  and 
winning,  like  the  rain  falling  soft  at  night,  wooing  at 
the  bluebells  and  the  daisies  in  the  glen,  or  like  a 
mother  croonin-  over  the  babe  at  her  breast,  till  men 
wept  for  love  and  longing  after  Himself.  Ay,  lad, 
lad,  yon  was  the  preaching." 

There  was  a  long  silence  while  they  waited  for  her 
to  continue. 

"What  was  that  sermon,  mother,  at  Mullin  that 
time  upon  the  words  *  WiU  ye  also  go  away?'  you 
remember?  "  at  length  asked  Shock  cunningly. 


ONLY   ONE    CLAIM  71 

His  mother  sighed.  "  Ay,  and  that  was  a  sairmon 
to  draw  the  heart  out  o'  you.  That  was  the  melting 
day,  while  the  big  men  gripped  their  sticks  hard  and 
the  women  wiped  at  their  eyes  that  would  never  be 
done  running,  and  that  man's  voice  soughing  over 
them  like  the  wind  in  the  pines  in  the  evening,  Yes ! 
yes !  But,"  suddenly  recalling  herself,  "  come,  lads, 
you  must  be  off  to  your  books." 

The  young  men  sat  a  few  moments  silently  gazing 
into  the  fire,  and  then  Brown  rose  and  said,  "  Good- 
night, mother.  You're  the  greatest  preacher  I  know, 
and  I  would  not  mind  a  whole  hour  from  you."  His 
voice  was  earnest  and  his  eyes  soft  and  tender  as  he 
stooped  and  kissed  her  cheek. 

"Good-night,  laddie,"  answered  Mrs.  Macgregor, 
patting  his  hand  gently.  "I  doubt,  after  all,  the 
fault  nowadays  is  not  with  the  preaching  so  much  as 
with  the  hearing." 

"Well,  I'm  off.  You  will  see  me  to-morrow  with 
my  flock  of  straying  sheep.  But  I  warn  you  that 
after  you  hear  that  man  from  the  West  you  will  all 
be  volunteering  as  missionaries." 

The  old  lady  took  up  her  knitting  again  and  after 
the  door  had  closed  upon  Brown  sat  back  in  her  chair 
with  a  weary  sigh. 

"  You're  tired  to-night,  mother,"  said  Shock  gently. 

"  Tired  ?  And  what  for  would  I  be  tired  ?  No,  no, 
but  the  day  is  long." 

"  Yes,  some  days,  mother.     But  the  longest  pass." 

She  glanced  quickly  at  her  son,  but  save  for  a 
quivering  of  the  lips  usually  so  firm,  there  was  no 


72  THE    PROSPECTOR 

sign  of  the  pain  which  both  knew  lay  at  the  heart  of 
each.  Her  mood  of  impatience  had  passed.  She 
was  once  more  herself,  calm  and  strong,  looking  with 
steadfast  eyes  into  the  future,  knowing  well  that  what- 
ever the  days  might  bring,  He  who  for  fifty  years  had 
been  her  refuge  and  her  strength  would  not  fail  her. 

The  appeal  for  the  West  was  the  theme  of  con- 
versation at  the  Fairbanks  home,  where  the  usual  com- 
pany had  assembled.  The  Don  was  describing  the 
Superintendent's  address  at  the  College  and  thrilling 
his  listeners  with  his  own  enthusiasm,  when  Brown 
entered. 

"Hello!  At  it  again?"  cried  Brown.  "If  he 
doesn't  avoid  that  fiery  cross  fellow,  The  Don  will  be 
off  for  the  West  first  thing  you  know." 

"  Tell  us,"  cried  Betty,  "  was  he  as  great  as  all 
that?  Mr.  Balfour  here  would  have  us  believe  that 
this  Western  man  is  really  something  wonderful." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  said  Brown.  "  You  never 
think  of  whether  he  is  wonderful  or  not,  but  one  thing 
I  know,  he  makes  you  see  things — the  mountains  and 
that  foot-hill  country,  the  mining  camps  and  all  that 
saloon  and  gambling-hell  business,  till  you  can  smell 
the  brimstone  and  you  want  to  be  in  it." 

"  What?     Into  the  brimstone?  "  laughed  Lloyd. 

"  I  am  rather  incoherent,  I  confess.  But  that  old 
chap  suits  me.  If  I  were  a  Theologue,  and  unat- 
tached, I'd  be  there." 

"  There's  no  doubt  it  is  a  great  country,  with  vast 
opportunities,"  said  The  Don,  glancing  at  Betty. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  frowning  as  she  noted 


ONLY   ONE    CLAIM  73 

the  glance,  "  and  doubtless  any  young  man  who  has 
the  necessary  enterprise  and  courage  will  make  his 
fortune  with  the  growth  of  that  country." 

"  But  why  unattached?  What  do  you  mean  by 
that?  "  enquired  Betty. 

"  Unattached?  Why,  you  know,  just  like  me — a 
man  with  no  family  ties  to  speak  of.  Did  you  tell 
them  that  yarn,  Lloyd?  Well,  I'll  teU  you.  You 
know  the  Superintendent  was  telling  the  fellows  of  the 
difficulty  he  had  in  securing  men.  Well,  he  man- 
aged to  get  a  man  from  an  Eastern  College  whom  he 
appointed  to  the  Cariboo — right  sort  of  chap,  too, 
apparently — accepted  the  appointment — everything 
was  arranged — happened,  however,  he  was  engaged  to 
a  young  lady  brought  up  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  and 
that  sort  of  thing.  When  she  heard  of  her  young 
man  being  appointed  to  this  outlandish  place,  she 
promptly  collapsed  into  a  faint,  sister  went  into 
hysterics,  mother  into  a  blind  rage,  result — young 
man  resigned.  '  So  you  see,  gentlemen,'  said  the  old 
chap  dryly,  *  when  you  have  to  consider  the  tastes 
and  temperament,  not  only  of  the  young  man,  but  of 
his  young  lady  and  of  all  her  near  family  relatives, 
the  difficulty  of  securing  men  for  the  West  is  sensibly 
increased.' " 

"  I  think  that  is  just  horrid  of  him,"  exclaimed 
Betty  indignantly.  "  The  young  lady  ought  to  be 
consulted.  Don't  you  think  so?  "  turning  to  Lloyd. 

"  Why  certainly,  and  yet " 

"  Most  assuredly,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks.  "  Would 
you  ask  a  young  lady  to  go  out  and  bury  herself  alive 


74  THE    PROSPECTOR 

in  such  a  country  as  that,  or  ask  her  to  wait  an  indefi- 
nite number  of  years  till  the  young  man  should  re- 
turn? Why  it  is  simply  monstrous."  And  Mrs. 
Fairbanks  fixed  her  glasses  firmly  on  her  nose  and 
gazed  at  Brown  as  if  she  would  annihilate  him. 

"  Why  certainly  I  would,"  replied  Brown,  quite  un- 
abashed ;  "  and  if  she  loved  me,"  placing  his  hand 
over  his  heart,  "  she  would  be  glad  to  do  either.  I 
would  simply  remark,  '  My  love,  I'm  off  for  Green- 
land.' *  Wait,  my  dear,'  she  would  promptly  reply, 
6  tiU  I  get  my  furs.'  " 

66  All  the  same,"  said  Lloyd  seriously,  "  it  would  be 
a  terrible  life  for  any  woman,  and  a  man  should  hesi- 
tate before  asking  her  to  share  it." 

"  No  society,  nothing  congenial  in  environment ! 
Quite  impossible ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fairbanks  with 
great  emphasis.  "  And  quite  absurd  to  dream  of  it." 

"  Then,"  replied  Brown  warmly  to  Lloyd,  "  the 
only  available  men  for  your  Chief,  apparently,  are 
hopeless  old  bachelors  or  young  men,  however  worthy 
like  myself,  who  are  still  unappropriated." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks  with  an  air  of 
finality. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Fairbanks,"  exclaimed  The  Don,  "  what 
of  our  soldiers  and  officers  who  go  to  India  and  other 
outlandish  places?  They  take  their  wives  along  with 
them,  I  understand?  " 

"  Tha&5  quite  a  different  thing,  Mr.  Balf our," 
said  Mrs.  Fairbanks.  "  These  men  go  out  to  serve 
their  Queen  and  country,  and  it  is  recognised  as  the 
proper  thing,  and— well,  you  see,  it  is  quite  different." 


ONLY  ONE   CLAIM  75 

w  I  must  say,"  exclaimed  Helen,  hastening  to  fore- 
stall the  hot  answer  she  knew  to  be  at  The  Don's  lips, 
"  I  agree  with  Mr.  Brown.  If  a  man's  work  calls 
him  to  Greenland,  his  wife  ought  to  go  with  him  or 
she  ought  to  be  willing  to  wait  his  return." 

"  Helen,  you  speak  like  a  sentimental  school-girl," 
replied  Mrs.  Fairbanks  with  a  touch  of  haughty  scorn. 
"  Of  course  if  a  man  is  married  and  duty  calls  him 
to  a  foreign  land,  he  must  go.  But  why  should  a  girl 
throw  away  her  prospects  and  condemn  herself  to  a 
life  of  obscurity  and  isolation  by  attaching  herself  to 
a  man  who  chooses  to  take  up  some  fantastic  mission 
in  some  outlandish  place  or  other?  "  1 

"Why?  Because  she  loves  a  man  whose  duty 
calls  him  there,"  exclaimed  Helen,  her  grey  eyes 
glowing. 

"Bravo!"  replied  Brown.  "If  I  see  a  Western 
missionary  wanting  a  helpmeet — that's  the  proper 
word,  I  believe — I  shall  know  where  to  send  him." 

"  Nonsense,"  cried  Mrs.  Fairbanks  quite  crossly, 
"  but  surely  we  need  not  discuss  the  question  any 
further." 

"  Well,  if  I  may  offer  an  opinion,"  said  The  Don  in 
a  deliberate,  strained  voice,  "  that  country  is  the  place 
for  men  with  enterprise  who  believe  in  themselves,  and 
I  think  no  man  is  throwing  his  prospects  away  who 
identifies  himself  with  it — nor  woman  either,  for  that 
matter.  And  what  is  true  of  other  professions  ought 
to  be  true  of  the  ministry." 

"I  agree,"  cried  Brown,  adding  wickedly,  "just 
the  spot  for  you,  Lloyd." 


76  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"Why,  I  should  like  nothing  better,"  said  Lloyd, 
*'  if  circumstances  indicated  that  my  work  lay  there." 

"Well,  well,  what's  come  to  you  all?  "  cried  Mrs. 
Fairbanks,  holding  up  her  jewelled  hands  in  despair, 

"  The  Occidental  microbe,"  suggested  Brown. 

"And  the  monumental  nonsense  it  is,"  said  Mrs. 
Fairbanks,  "  for  men  of  high  culture  and  special  train- 
ing to  lose  themselves  in  such  a  country  as  that." 

"  But,"  persisted  Brown,  "  they  say  that  that's  the 
very  place  for  such  men.  Why,  that  country  is  full 
of  high-class  chaps — University  grads,  Lords,  Dukes, 
and  such,  as  well  as  the  professional  gambler,  and 
other  highly  technical  experts.  The  Superintendent 
declared  to-night  he  wouldn't  have  any  but  high-class 
men — hence,  Lloyd!"  and  Brown  waved  his  hand 
toward  that  gentleman. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks  with  severe 
deliberation,  "  that  Mr.  Lloyd  has  the  good  sense  to 
perceive  that  his  special  training  fits  him  for  some- 
thing quite  different,  and  I  think  he  will  not  be  mad 
enough  to  throw  away  his  brilliant  prospects  in  any 
such  silly  manner.  But  come,  let  us  have  some  music. 
Mr.  Lloyd,  you  and  Betty  sing  something  for  us." 

As  they  moved  to  the  piano,  Brown  looked  up  at 
The  Don.  His  handsome,  haughty  face  was  set  hard 
and  in  his  eyes  burned  a  light  that  Brown  had  often 
seen  there  on  the  football  field. 

"  He's  going  to  tackle  and  tackle  hard,  too,  poor 
old  chap.  Not  much  chance,  though,  against  that 
combination  of  Church  and  State." 

"Oh,  that  we  two  were  Maying,"  sang  Lloyd  m 


ONLY   ONE    CLAIM  TT 

his  fine  tenor  voice,  with  Betty  responding  in  like 
sentiment. 

"  Well,  I  rather  hope  not,"  muttered  Brown  to  him- 
self as  he  crossed  the  room  to  where  Helen  was  seated. 
Pausing  a  moment  beside  her  he  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"  The  Don  has  had  an  offer  on  the  new  railway  con- 
struction in  the  West — two  years'  appointment.  Go 
and  talk  t<)  him  about  it.  Looks  fierce,  doesn't  he?  n 
And  Helen,,  nodding  intelligently,  lingered  a  moment 
and  then  moved  to  where  The  Don  sat,  while  Brown 
went  toward  the  piano.  "  Must  get  these  youngsters 
inoculated  with  the  Occidental  microbe,"  he  muttered 
as  he  took  his  place  beside  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  who  was 
listening  with  pleased  approval  to  the  "  Maying " 
duet,  the  pauses  of  which  Brown  industriously  em- 
ployed in  soothing  her  ruffled  feelings.  So  well  did 
he  succeed  that  when  he  proffered  the  humble  request 
that  the  young  ladies  should  be  allowed  to  accompany 
him  to  Shock's  church  in  the  morning,  Mrs.  Fairbanks 
gave  a  reluctant. assent. 

"  Undoubtedly,  I  am  a  great  strategist,"  said  Brown 
to  himself  next  morning  as  he  sat  watching  with  sur- 
reptitious glances  the  faces  of  the  young  ladies  beside 
him.  The  preacher  was  at  his  best.  The  great  land 
where  his  life  mission  lay,  with  its  prairies,  foot-hills, 
mountains,  and  valleys,  and  all  their  marvellous 
resources,  was  spread  out  before  the  eyes  of  the  con- 
gregation with  all  the  passionate  pride  of  the  patriot 
The  life  of  the  lonely  rancher  and  of  his  more  lonely 
wife,  the  desperate  struggle  for  manhood  by  the  meni 
of  the  mine  and  the  railroad  and  the  lumber  camp? 


78  THE    PROSPECTOR 

the  magnitude  of  the  issues  at  stake;  the  pathos  of 
defeat,  the  glory  of  triumph,  were  all  portrayed  with 
a  power  that  compelled  the  sj^mpathy  of  his  hearers, 
while  the  shrewd  common-sense  vein  that  ran  through 
all  convinced  their  intellects  and  won  their  confidence. 
Perplexity,  wonder,  horror,  compassion,  filled  their 
hearts  and  were  reflected  with  rapid  succession  on  their 
faces,  as  he  told  his  stories  of  the  wreck  of  human  lives 
and  consequent  agony  of  human  hearts. 

"  By  Jove !  they've  got  it,"  exclaimed  Brown  to 
himself.  "  The  dear  Mrs.  Fairbanks  has  no  anti- 
toxine  for  this  microbe."  His  eyes  turned  to  Shock 
and  there  were  held  fast.  "  He's  got  it,  too,  confound 
him,"  he  grumbled.  "Surely,  he  wouldn't  be  beast 
enough  to  leave  his  old  mother  alone."  The  mother's 
face  was  a  strange  sight.  On  it  the  anguish  of  her 
heart  was  plainly  to  be  seen,  but  with  the  anguish 
the  rapt  glory  of  those  who  triumph  by  sacrifice. 

As  the  congregation  broke  up  the  young  ladies  hur- 
ried to  greet  Mrs.  Macgregor.  From  the  day  of  the 
football  match  they  had  carefully  and  persistently 
nursed  the  acquaintance  then  begun  till  they  had  come 
to  feel  at  home  in  the  Macgregor  cottage.  Hence, 
when  Betty  fell  into  severe  illness  and  they  were  at 
their  wits'  end  for  a  nurse,  they  gladly  accepted  Mrs. 
Macgregor's  proffered  help,  and  during  the  long 
anxious  weeks  that  followed,  the  whole  family  came 
to  regard  with  respect,  confidence,  and  finally  warm 
affection,  the  dignified  old  lady  who,  with  such  kindly, 
shrewd,  and  tender  care,  nursed  the  sick  girl  back  to 
strength.  Helen  especially,  who  had  shared  the  lonjs 


ONLY   ONE    CLAIM  79 

watch  with  her,  had  made  for  herself  a  large  place  in 
her  heart.  To-day,  after  an  exchange  of  greetings, 
Helen  drew  Mrs.  Macgregor  back  and  allowed  the 
others  to  go  on.  For  some  time  they  walked  in 
silence,  Helen  holding  the  old  lady  tight  by  the  arm. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  she  said 
finally.  "  Wasn't  it  wonderful  ?  It  makes  one  proud 
to  be  a  Canadian.  What  a  country  that  must  be !  If 
I  were  only  a  man!  It's  too  bad  that  men  have  all 
the  good  things.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  yourself?  " 

"  That  I  would,"  said  the  old  lady  eagerly,  "  that 
I  would.  But  I  doubt  it's  not  for  me.  But  yon's  a 
man." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Helen  enthusiastically,  "  he  is  a  man 
to  follow.  Of  course,  it  was  a  strange  sermon  for  a 
church — those  stories  of  his,  I  mean,  and  all  those 
figures  about  coal  beds  and  gold  and  cattle.  I'm  not 
used  to  that  sort  of  thing  and  I  don't  like  to  see  the 
people  laugh." 

"  Ay,  he's  wise,"  replied  the  old  lady  shrewdly. 
"  When  a  man  laughs  he's  nearer  to  letting  his  money 
go.  Ay,  he's  wise,  yon  man." 

"Of  course,  I  think  he's  extreme,"  said  Helen. 
"  You  would  think  to  hear  him  there  was  no  place  but 
the  West  and  that  every  young  minister  must  go  out 
there  and  give  up  everything." 

"  There's  few  to  go,  I  doubt,"  said  the  old  lady  in 
a  musing  tone,  "  and  yon  are  terrible-like  places  for 
those  lads  to  live." 

"  Yes,  but  everyone  can't  go." 

"  No,  no.     That's  it.     That's  just  it.     Not  many 


80  THE    PROSPECTOR 

can  go  and  not  many  are  fit  to  go.  But  those  that 

can "  the  old  lady  paused,  drawing  her  breath 

in  sharply. 

"  But  surely  a  man  may  do  his  work  without  giving 
up  everything  he  holds  dear,"  persisted  Helen. 

"  '  Forsaketh  not  all  that  he  hath,5  "  quoted  the  old 
lady  softly. 

"  Yes,  but  that's  not  for  everybody,"  insisted  Helen. 

"'Whosoever,'"  quoted  Mrs.  Macgregor  again, 
with  a  stern  relentlessness  in  her  tone.  "  Ay,  there 
will  be  no  slipping  out  from  under  yon." 

"  But  surely,"  argued  Helen,  "  it  is  not  reasonable 
to  think  that  every  young  minister  is  bound  to  for- 
sake home  and  friends,  and  all  that,  and  go  out  to 
these  wild  places." 

"  Not  every  one  will  be  called.  The  application 
will  not  be  easy  for  any  of  us,  I  doubt.  Oh,  no!  it 
will  not  be  easy." 

"  But  surely,  Mrs.  Macgregor,  there  are  other 
claims  upon  men." 

"  There  iss  only  one  claim,  lassie,  only  one  claim. 
His  claim  is  the  first.  All  other  claims  will  just  be 
working  out  that  first  one.  Ay,  that's  it,"  she  said, 
as  if  arriving  at  decision,  "  only  one  claim.  God 
peety  us !  One  claim,"  she  added  with  a  sudden  break 
in  her  voice. 

At  that  break  Helen  glanced  at  the  old  lady.  The 
strong  face  was  working  strangely.  The  tears  were 
slowty  making  their  way  down  the  wrinkled  face. 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Macgregor !  "  exclaimed  Helen,  "  that 
seems  an  awfully  hard  doctrine.  Do  you  think  God 


ONLY   ONE    CLAIM  81 

ever  wants  a  man  to  leave  father,  mother,  wife,  help- 
less behind?  " 

"  No,  no,  lassie,  not  helpless.  But ,"  she  could 

go  no  further.  "  But,"  she  continued  after  a  moment 
or  two,  clutching  Helen  by  the  arm,  "  he — will — be — 
going — away,  lassie,  he  will  be  going  away.  He  will 
be  leaving  me  and — it  iss  the  will  of  the  Lord.  Oh! 
lassie,  lassie,  heed  me  not.  He  must  never  see  the 
tears  on  my  face." 

"  Don't !  don't ! "  cried  Helen  in  a  sudden  anguish. 
She  had  no  need  of  further  words  to  tell  her  what  the 
old  lady  meant.  "  He  would  never  do  such  a  thing ! 
He  could  not  do  it !  " 

"Could  not?"  answered  Mrs.  Macgregor.  "Ay, 
he  could,"  she  said  proudly.  "  Thank  God  he  could. 
He  will  not  be  shaming  his  blood.  But  oh!  it  iss 
himself  will  carry  a  sore  heart  away  with  him  and  leave 
a  sore  heart  behind." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Macgregor ! "  cried  Helen,  while  her 
breath  came  fast  and  her  hand  went  to  her  own  heart, 
"  perhaps  he  will  not  think  it  to  be  his  duty.  Per- 
haps he  will  not " 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  and  I  saw  it  in  hiss  face  last  night, 
and  clearer  than  ever  to-day.  He  hass  heard  the 
voice  and  it  iss  for  him  to  obey — and  for  us." 

They  were  near  Mrs.  Macgregor's  home,  where  the 
others  stood  waiting  for  them  at  the  gate. 

"  May  I  come  to  see  you  ?  "  said  Helen  hurriedly. 

"  Ay,  come,"  said  Mrs.  Macgregor  with  a  keen  look 
at  her,  "  you  will  be  needing — I  will  be  needing  help." 

The  others  they  found  eagerly  discussing  the  ser- 


82  THE    PROSPECTOR 

mon,  but  there  was  little  criticism.  The  Superintend- 
ent had  won  his  volunteers.  On  Shock's  face  sat  the 
serenity  of  a  great  decision,  in  his  deep  blue  eyes  the 
light  of  a  great  enterprise.  As  he  said  good-bye  to 
Helen,  she  became  aware  that  his  usual  hesitating, 
nervous  awkwardness  had  given  place  to  quiet, 
thoughtful  dignity.  A  great  resolve  and  a  great 
sacrifice  had  lifted  him  far  above  things  small  and 
common. 


"YEA,   AND   HIS   OWN   LIFE    ALSO" 

WHEN  Helen  entered  her  own  room  she 
had  leisure  to  analyse  the  tumult  of 
emotion  filling  her  heart.  Amazement, 
shame,  anger,  dismay,  grief,  were  surg- 
ing across  her  soul. 

"  How  can  he  think  of  leaving  his  mother?  It  is  a 
shame!"  she  cried  indignantly  to  herself >  But  why 
this  hot  sense  of  shame  ?  "  Nonsense !  *'  she  pro- 
tested vehemently  to  herself,  "  it  is  that  poor,  dear 
old  lady  I  am  thinking  of."  She  remembered  that 
sudden  stab  at  her  heart  at  the  old  lady's  broken 
words,  "  He  will  be  going  away,  lassie,"  and  her  cheek 
flamed  hot  again. ,  "  It  is  all  nonsense,"  she  repeated 
angrily,  and  there  being  no  one  to  contradict  her,  she 
said  it  again  with  even  greater  emphasis.  But  sud- 
denly she  sat  down,  and  before  long  she  found  her- 
self smiling  at  the  memory  of  the  old  lady's  proud 
cry,  "  Could  not  ?  Ay,  he  could."  And  now  she 
knew  why  her  heart  was  so  full  of  happy  pride.  It 
was  for  Shock.  He  was  a  man  strong  enough  to  see 
his  duty  and  brave  enough  to  face  what  to  him  was 
the  bitterness  of  death,  for  well  she  knew  what  his 
mother  was  to  him. 

"  He  will  go,"  she  whispered  to  her  looking-glass, 


84  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  and  I'd  go  with  him  to-morrow.  But" — and  heir 
face  flamed  hot — "  he  must  never  know." 

But  he  did  come  to  know,  to  his  own  great  amaze- 
ment and  overwhelming,  humbling  gladness. 

Shock's  determination  to  offer  himself  to  the  far 
West  awakened  in  his  friends  various  emotions. 

"  It  is  just  another  instance  of  how  religious  fanati- 
cism will  lead  men  to  the  most  fantastic  and  selfish 
acts,"  was  Mrs.  Fairbanks'  verdict,  which  effected  in 
Brown  a  swift  conversion.  Hitherto  he  had  striven 
with  might  and  main  to  turn  Shock  from  his  pur- 
pose, using  any  and  every  argument,  fair  or  unfair, 
to  persuade  him  that  his  work  lay  where  it  had  been 
begun,  in  the  city  wards.  He  was  the  more  urged  to 
this  course  that  he  had  shrewdly  guessed  Helen's 
secret,  so  sacredly  guarded.  But  on  hearing  Mrs. 
Fairbanks'  exclamation,  he  at  once  plunged  into  a 
warm  defence  of  his  friend's  course. 

"  The  finest  thing  I  ever  heard  of,"  he  declared. 
"  No  one  knows  what  these  two  are  to  each  other,  and 
yet  there  they  are,  both  of  them,  arriving  at  the 
opinion  that  Shock's  work  lies  in  the  West." 

"  But  to  leave  his  mother  alone ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Fairbanks  indignantly. 

"  She  is  not  to  be  alone,"  said  Brown,  making  there 
and  then  a  sudden  resolve.  "  By  the  greatest  of  luck 
for  me  I  am  turned  out  of  my  quarters,  and  she  is  to 
take  me  in,  and  while  I  can't  fill  Shock's  place,  still 
I  am  somebody,"  added  Brown,  fervently  hoping  the 
old  lady  would  not  refuse  him  shelter. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  a  man  is  ever  called  to  Jeave 


"YEA,   AND    HIS    OWN    LIFE    ALSO"  85 

his  mother  to  the  care  of  strangers,"  said  Lloyd,  who, 
after  long  indecision  and  much  consultation  with 
various  friends,  had  determined  that  his  particular 
gifts  and  training  fitted  him  for  Park  Church. 

"  Oh !  blank  it  all !  "  said  Brown  to  Helen,  "  I  can't 
stand  that  rot ! " 

"I  beg  jour  pardon,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  look- 
ing haughtily  at  Brown  through  her  glasses. 
,  "  I  was  about  to  say,"  replied  Brown,  in  the  sweetest 
of  tones,  "  that  if  these  two  who  are  most  interested, 
and  who  are  extremely  sane  and  reasonable  persons, 
have  come  to  an  agreement  upon  a  question,  I'd  bank 
on  that  decision  as  being  about  the  thing."  At  which 
Helen  gave  his  arm  a  quick  squeeze. 

/*  WeU,  mother,"  said  Betty,  "  I  think  he's  fine,  and 
I  never  admired  him  so  much  as  now.  You  know  he 
may  never  see  her  again,  and  she  has  the  whole  of  his 
heart." 

"  Not  quite,  I  guess,"  said  Brown  in  a  low  tone  to 
Helen,  who,  blushing  vividly,  replied  in  like  tone, 
"  You  seem  to  be  remarkably  well  informed." 

"  I  know,"  said  Brown  confidently.  "  But  he  is  a 
mine  of  blind  stupidity !  If  some  one  would  dig  him 
up,  explore  him — blast  him,  in  short!  Confound 
him!" 

But  when  the  Superintendent  learned  of  all  that 
Shock's  decision  involved,  he  made  a  point  to  insert 
among  his  multitudinous  engagements  a  visit  to  the 
Macgregor  cottage. 

"  It  was  a  great  scene,  I  assure  you,"  said  Brown, 
who  was  describing  it  afterwards  to  the  young  ladies. 


86  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Those  two  old  Spartans,  all  ice  and  granite  outside, 
all  molten  lava  within,  stood  up  looking  at  each  other 
a  minute  or  two  without  the  quiver  of  an  eyelid  and 
then  the  old  chief  burred  out : 

"  '  You  are  to  be  congratulated  upon  your  son,  Mrs. 
Macgregor.' ' 

"  'Ay,'  said  she  in  a  matter  of  fact  tone,  '  he  will 
be  doing  his  duty,  I  warrant.' ' 

"  'And,  believe  me,  your  mutual  sacrifice  has  not 
been  unnoticed.' ' 

"  '  It  is  not  great  beside  His  own,  but  it  iss  all  we 
could.  It  iss  our  life.' ' 

"  The  old  chap  bowed  like  a  prince  and  then  his 
voice  burred  like  a  buzz  saw  as  he  answered,  '  Remem- 
ber I  did  not  ask  you  for  him ! '  " 

" '  No,  it  wass  not  you.' " 

"  'But  I  want  to  tell  you,'  said  the  chief,  '  I  am 
proud  to  get  a  son  who  for  the  Cause  can  forsake 
such  a  mother,  and  I  thank  God  for  the  mother  that 
can  give  up  such  a  son.'  " 

"  And  then  he  gripped  her  hand  with  that  down- 
ward pull  of  his, — he  gave  it  to  me  once  when  he  heard 
I  was  Shock's  friend,  and  nearly  jerked  me  off  my 
feet, — and  without  more  words  he  was  gone,  while  I 
stood  behind  them  like  a  blubbering  idiot." 

66  Oh,  isn't  she  a  dear ! "  exclaimed  Betty,  "  poor 
thing." 

"  Poor  thing ! "  echoed  Helen  warmly,  "  indeed  she 
doesn't  think  so.  She's  as  proud  of  him  as  she 
can  be,  and  feels  herself  rich  in  his  love;  and  so 
she  is." 


"YEA,   AND   HIS   OWN   LIFE   ALSO"  87 

Her  tone  and  manner  struck  Brown  with  sudden 
pity. 

"  Hang  his  stupidity ! "  he  said  to  himself,  "  can't 
the  old  bloke  see.  But  he  has  not  such  a  blamed  low 
opinion  of  himself  that  he  can't  imagine  any  girl, 
much  less  a  girl  like  that,  looking  at  him,  and  even 
if  he  did  come  to  see  it  he  would  not  think  of  asking 
her  to  share  the  life  he's  going  to  out  there ;  and,  by 
Jove!  it  would  be  hard  enough  for  her.  I  guess  I 
won't  take  the  responsibility  of  interfering  in  this 
business." 

But  Brown  had  no  need  to  interfere.  Mrs.  Fair- 
banks, of  all  people,  did  what  was  necessary.  On  the 
morning  of  Shock's  departure  it  was  she  who  de- 
clared that  someone  should  take  pity  on  "  that  dear 
old  lady,"  and  should  stand  by  her  in  her  hour  of 
"  desertion." 

"  So  I  think  I  shall  drive  over  this  afternoon ;  and, 
Helen,  perhaps  you  had  better  come  with  me.  You 
seem  to  have  great  influence  with  her." 

But  Helen  was  of  quite  another  mind.  She  shrank 
from  intruding  upon  what  she  knew  would  be  a  sacred 
hour  to  mother  and  son.  But  when  Mrs.  Fairbanks 
expressed  her  determination  to  go  Helen  finally  agreed 
to  accompany  her. 

"  Oh,  let's  all  go,  mother,"  said  Betty. 

"I  do  not  think  they  will  want  you,  Betty,  but 
you  may  go  along,"  and  so  the  three  ladies  proceeded 
in  the  afternoon  to  the  Macgregor  home. 

But  at  the  parting  of  Shock  and  his  mother  there 
were  no  tears  or  lamentations,  or  at  least  none  that 


88  THE    PROSPECTOR 

any  could  witness.  Through  the  long  night  before, 
they  each  knew  the  other  to  be  keeping  the  watch  of 
love  and  agony ;  yet,  each  alone,  they  drank  the  cup  of 
sacrifice.  It  was  only  when  the  morning  was  nearing 
that  Shock  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  hastily  dress- 
ing he  came  into  his  mother's  room  and  kneeling  by 
her  bedside  put  his  arms  about  her. 

"  Mother,  mother,  why  have  you  not  been  sleep- 
ing? "  he  whispered. 

His  mother  turned  to  him  and  took  his  head  to  her 
bosom  in  a  close  embrace,  but  no  words  came  from 
her. 

"  But,  mother,  don't  be  grieving  like  this,"  sobbed 
Shock,  "  or  how  can  I  leave  you  at  all." 

"  Laddie,  laddie,  why  did  you  come  in  to  me  ?  I 
had  minded  to  give  you  up  without  tears,  and  this 
iss  my  hour  of  weakness.  There  now,  let  your  head 
lie  there*  Whist!  lad,  och-hone.  It  iss  twenty-four 
years. since  first  you  lay  there,  lad,  and  though  grief 
hass  come  to  me  many's  the  day,  yet  never  through 
you,  never  once  through  you,  and  you  will  be  remem- 
bering that,  lad.  It  will  comfort  you  after — after — 
after  I'm  gone." 

"  Gone,  mother !  "  cried  Shock  in  surprise. 

"  Yess,  for  this  iss  the  word  given  to  me  this  night, 
that  you  will  see  my  face  no  more." 

"  Oh,  mother !  mother !  don't  say  that  word,  for  I 
cannot  bear  it,"  and  poor  Shock  buried  his  face  in  the 
pillow,  while  his  great  frame  shook  with  sobs. 

"Whist  now,  laddie!  There  now.  It  iss  the 
Lord." 


"YEA,   AND    HIS    OWN    LIFE    ALSO"  89 

Her  voice  grew  steady  and  grave.  "It  iss  the 
Lord,  and  He  gave  you  to  me  for  these  few  happy 
years,  and,  Shock,  man,  you  will  be  heeding  me." 

Shock  turned  his  face  toward  her  again  and  laid  his 
face  close  to  her  cheek. 

"Remember,  I  gave  you  to  Himself  in  convenant 
that  day,  and  that  covenant  you  will  keep  now  and — 
afterwards,  and  I  must  be  keeping  it  too." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  said  Shock  brokenly,  while  he  held 
her  tight.  "  But  it  is  only  for  two  years,  and  then 
I  will  be  coming  home,  or  you  to  me,  and  before  that, 
perhaps." 

"  Yes,  yes,  laddie,  it  may  be — it  may  be,"  said  his 
mother  soothingly,  "  but  whether  or  no,  we  will  not 
be  taking  back  with  the  one  hand  what  we  give  with 
the  other.  I  had  minded  to  give  you  without  tears, 
but — but — oh,  lad,  you  are  all — all — all — I  have. 
There  is  no  one  left  to  me." 

There  was  a  long  silence  between  them.  Under 
cover  of  darkness  they  let  their  tears  freely  mingle. 
In  all  his  life  Shock  had  never  seen  his  mother 
sob,  and  now  he  was  heart-stricken  with  grief  and 
terror. 

"  Whist  now,  mother,  you  must  not  cry  like  that. 
Surely  God  will  be  good  to  us,  and  before  long  I  will 
get  a  little  place  for  you  yonder.  Why  should  you 
not  come  to  me?  There  are  missionaries'  wives  out 
there,"  he  said. 

"  No,  lad,"  his  mother  replied  quietly,  "  I  will  not 
be  deceiving  myself,  nor  you.  And  yet  it  may  be 
the  Lord's  will.  But  go  away  now  and  lie  you  down. 


90  THE    PROSPECTOR 

You  will  need  to  sleep  a  bit,  to-morrow  will  be  a  hard 
day  to  you." 

For  twenty  years  and  more  she  had  thought  first 
of  her  boy,  and  now,  even  in  the  midst  of  her  own 
great  sorrow,  she  thought  mostly  of  him  and  his 
grief. 

"  Let  me  stay  here,  mother,"  whispered  Shock.  And 
so  in  each  other's  arms  they  lay,  and  from  sheer  ex- 
haustion both  soon  fell  asleep. 

The  morning's  sun  was  shining  through  the  chink 
by  the  curtain  when  Mrs.  Macgregor  awoke.  Gently 
she  slipped  out  of  the  bed  and  before  dressing  lighted 
the  kitchen  fire,  put  on  the  kettle  for  the  tea  and  the 
pot  for  the  porridge.  Then  she  dressed  herself  and 
stepping  about  on  tiptoe  prepared  breakfast,  peering 
in  now  and  then  at  her  sleeping  son. 

It  was  with  a  face  calm  and  strong,  and  even  bright, 
that  she  went  in  at  last  to  waken  him. 

"  Now,  mother,"  exclaimed  Shock,  springing  off 
the  bed,  "  this  is  really  too  bad,  and  I  meant  to  give 
you  your  breakfast  in  bed  to-day." 

"  Ay,  it's  myself  knew  that  much,"  she  cried  with 
a  little  laugh  of  delight. 

"Oh,  but  you're  hard  to  manage,"  said  Shock 
severely,  "  but  wait  until  I  get  you  out  yonder  in  my 
own  house." 

"  Ay,  lad,"  answered  his  mother  brightly,  "  it  will 
be  your  turn  then." 

They  were  determined,  these  two,  to  look  only  at 
the  bright  side  to-day.  No  sun  should  shine  upon 
their  tears.  The  parting  would  be  sore  enough  with 


"YEA,   AND   HIS   OWN   LIFE   ALSO"  91 

all  the  help  that  hope  could  bring.  And  so  the  morn- 
ing passed  in  last  preparations  for  Shock's  going,  and 
the  last  counsels  and  promises,  and  in  planning  for 
the  new  home  that  was  to  be  made  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Rockies  in  the  far  West. 

"  And  the  time  will  soon  pass,  mother,"  said  Shock 
cheerfully,  "and  it  will  be  good  for  you  to  have 
Brown  with  you.  He  will  need  your  care,  you  know," 
he  hastened  to  add,  knowing  well  that  not  for  her  own 
sake  could  she  have  been  persuaded  to  receive  even 
Brown  into  her  little  home. 

"  Ay,  I  will  do  for  him  what  I  can,"  she  replied, 
"  and  indeed,"  she  added  warmly,  "  he's  a  kind  lad, 
poor  fellow." 

"  And  the  young  ladies  will  be  looking  in  on  you 
now  and  then,  so  they  said,"  and  Shock  bent  low  over 
his  trunk  working  with  the  roping  of  it. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  his  mother  heartily,  "  never 
you  fear." 

And  so  with  united  and  determined  purpose  they 
kept  at  arm's  length  the  heart's  sorrow  they  knew 
would  fall  upon  each  when  alone. 

To  go  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  in  these  globe-trot- 
ting days  is  attended  with  little  anxiety,  much  less 
heart-break,  but  in  those  days  when  Canada  was  cut 
off  at  the  Lakes,  the  land  beyond  was  a  wilderness^ 
untravelled  for  the  most  part  but  by  the  Indian  or 
trapper,  and  considered  a  fit  dwelling  place  only  for 
the  Hudson  Bay  officer  kept  there  by  his  loyalty  to 
"  the  Company,"  or  the  half-breed  runner  to  whom 
it  was  native  land,  or  the  more  adventurous  land- 


n  THE    PROSPECTOR 

hungry  settler,  or  the  reckless  gold-fevered  miner,, 
Only  under  some  great  passion  did  men  leave  home 
and  those  dearer  than  life,  and  casting  aside  dreams  of 
social,  commercial,  or  other  greatness,  devote  them- 
selves to  life  on  that  rude  frontier.  But  such  a  pas- 
sion had  seized  upon  Shock,  and  in  it  his  mother 
shared.  Together  these  two  simple  souls,  who  were 
all  in  all  to  each  other,  made  their  offering  for  the 
great  cause,  bringing  each  their  all  without  stint, 
without  measure,  without  grudging,  though  not  with- 
out heart-break,  and  gaining  that  full  exquisite  joy, 
to  so  many  unknown,  of  love's  complete  sacrifice. 

To  none  but  themselves,  however,  was  the  greatness 
of  the  sacrifice  apparent.  For  when  the  carriage 
arrived  with  Mrs.  Fairbanks  and  her  daughters  there 
was  no  sign  of  tears  or  heart-break  in  the  quiet  faces 
that  welcomed  them.  And  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  who  had 
come  prepared  to  offer  overflowing  sympathy  to  the 
old  lady  "  deserted  "  by  her  "  fanatical "  son,  was 
somewhat  taken  aback  by  the  quiet  dignity  and  per- 
fect control  that  distinguished  the  lady's  voice  and 
manner.  After  the  first  effusive  kiss,  which  Mrs. 
Fairbanks  hurried  to  bestow  and  which  Mrs.  Mac- 
gregor  suffered  with  calm  surprise,  it  became  diffi- 
cult to  go  on  with  the  programme  of  tearful  consola- 
tion which  had  been  prepared.  There  seemed  hardly 
a  place  for  sympathy,  much  less  for  tearful  consola- 
tion, in  this  well-ordered  home,  and  with  these  self- 
sufficient  folk. 

"  We  thought  we  would  like  to  come  over  and — and 
—help,  perhaps  drive  you  to  the  station  to  see  your 


"YEA,   AND   HIS   OWN   LIFE   ALSO"  93 

son  off,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  who  was  readjusting 
her  scenery  and  changing  her  role  with  all  speed. 

"That  was  kind,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Macgregor, 
"  but  Hamish  will  be  walking,  I  doubt,  and  I  will  just 
be  waiting  at  home." 

She  had  the  instinct  of  the  wounded  to  hide  in  some 
sheltered  and  familiar  haunt. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  remain  with  you,  Mrs.  Mac- 
gregor, if  I  can  be  of  any  service,"  repeated  Mrso 
Fairbanks. 

"  It  will  not  be  necessary ;  everything  is  done,  and 
there  is  nothing  needed." 

The  voice  was  more  than  quiet,  as  if  it  came  from 
a  heart  whose  passion  had  been  spent. 

"  It  is  very  kind,  indeed,  and  we  are  grateful,"  said 
Shock,  feeling  that  his  mother's  manner  might  be  mis- 
understood. 

"  Yess,  yess,"  said  the  old  lady  hastily,  "  it  iss 
very  good  of  you  and  of  the  young  ladies,"  turning 
to  look  at  Helen  with  kindly  eyes.  "  You  will  not  be 
thinking  me  ungrateful,"  she  added  with  a  suspicion 
of  tears  in  her  voice.  "  I  have  been  spoiled  by 
Hamish  yonder,"  turning  her  face  toward  her  son. 

"  Whist  now,  mother,"  said  Hamish  to  her  in  a  low 
tone,  in  which  depreciation  and  warning  were  mingled. 
He  knew  how  hard  the  next  hour  would  be  for  himself 
and  for  his  mother,  and  he  knew,  too,  that  they  could 
not  indulge  themselves  in  the  luxury  of  uttered  grief 
and  love.  At  this  moment,  to  the  relief  of  all,  Brown 
entered  with  an  exaggerated  air  of  carelessness. 

"Here's  a  man  for  your  'settlers  effects,'"  he 


94.  THE    PROSPECTOR 

cried  cheerily.  "  Lucky  dog,  aint  he,"  he  cried,  turn- 
ing to  Helen,  "  and  don't  I  wish  I  was  in  his  place. 
Think  of  the  times  he  will  have  riding  over  the  claims 
with  those  jolly  cowboys,  not  to  speak  of  the 
claims  he  will  be  staking,  and  the  gold  he  will  be  wash- 
ing out  of  those  parish  streams  of  his.  Don't  I  wish  I 
were  going !  I  am,  too,  when  I  can  persuade  those  old 
iron-livered  professors  to  let  me  through.  However, 
next  year  I'm  to  pass.  Mrs.  Macgregor  is  to  see 
to  that." 

"  Indeed,  I  hope  so,"  cried  Betty,  "  an  hour's  study, 
at  least,  before  breakfast  and  no  gallivanting  at  night. 
I  will  help  you,  Mrs.  Macgregor.  We  will  get  him 
through  this  time." 

"  Ay  9 1  doubt  I  will  not  be  much  the  better  of  your 
help,"  replied  Mrs.  Macgregor,  with  a  shrewd  kindly 
smile. 

"  There  now,  take  that,"  said  Brown  to  Betty,  add- 
ing ruefully  to  Shock,  "  You  see  what  I'm  in  for." 

"  You'll  survive,"  said  Shock. 

Then  he  rose  and  lifted  his  coat  from  the  peg  be- 
hind the  door.  At  the  same  instant  Helen  rose  hur- 
riedly and  with  paling  face  said  to  her  mother :  "  Let 
us  go  now." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Macgregor,  if  we  cannot  serve  you  we 
will  be  going,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks ;  "  but  we  would 
be  glad  to  drive  Mr.  Macgregor  to  the  station." 

She  was  anxious  to  justify  her  visit  to  herself  and 
her  friends. 

"  That's  a  first-rate  idea,"  cried  Brown,  "  that  is,  if 
you  can  give  me  a  liftv  too." 


"YEA,   AND   HIS   OWN    LIFE    ALSO"  95 

"  Of  course,"  cried  Betty. 

"  Thank  you,  I  shall  be  very  glad,"  said  Shock, 
seeing  it  would  please  Mrs.  Fairbanks. 

"  Come  along,  then,"  said  Betty.  "  I  suppose  we 
have  not  too  much  time." 

"  Good-bye,  for  the  present,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks^ 
offering  her  hand  to  the  old  lady,  who  was  standing 
erect,  white  but  calm,  facing  the  hour  whose  bitter- 
ness she  had  already  tasted. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Betty  softly,  kissing  the  white 
cheek,  and  trying  to  hurry  her  mother  towards  the 
door. 

At  this,  Helen,  who  had  been  standing  with  face 
growing  whiter  and  whiter,  went  to  Mrs.  Macgregor 
and  put  her  arms  around  her  and  kissed  her  good-bye, 
When  she  was  nearing  the  door  she  came  hurriedly 
back.  "  Oh,  let  me  stay  with  you.  I  cannot  bear  to 
go,"  she  whispered. 

The  old  lady  turned  and  scrutinised  steadily  the 
young  face  turned  so  pleadingly  toward  her.  Slowly 
under  that  steady  gaze  the  red  crept  up  into  the  white 
cheek,  like  the  first  dawning  of  day,  till  the  whole  face 
and  neck  were  in  a  hot  flame  of  colour.  Yet  the  grey, 
lustrous  eyes  never  wavered,  but,  unshrinking,  an- 
swered the  old  lady's  searching  look.  At  that  reveal- 
ing wave  of  colour  Shock's  mother  made  as  if  to  push 
the  girl  away  from  her,  but,  with  a  quick  change  of 
mood,  she  took  her  in  her  arms  instead. 

"  Ay,  poor  lassie,  you  too !  Yes,  yes,  you  ma j 
stay  with  me  now." 

The  motherly  touch  and  tone  and  the  knowledge 


96  THE    PROSPECTOR 

that  her  secret  had  been  read  were  more  than  Helen 
could  bear.  She  clung  to  Mrs.  Macgregor,  sobbing 
passionate  sobs. 

At  this  extraordinary  outburst  Mrs.  Fairbanks 
came  back  into  the  room  and  stood  with  Shock  and 
the  others  gazing  in  utter  amazement  upon  this  scene. 

"  Whist  now,  lassie,  whist  now,"  Mrs.  Macgregor 
was  saying,  "  never  you  fear,  he'll  come  back  again." 

"  What  on  earth  is  this  nonsense,  Helen  ?  "  Mrs. 
Fairbanks'  voice  was  haughty  and  suspicious.  "  What 
does  this  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means,"  said  Mrs.  Macgregor  with  quiet  dig- 
nity, "  what  neither  you  nor  I  can  help  or  harm." 

"  Helen,  speak  to  me." 

At  the  stern  command  Helen  lifted  her  face,  still 
hot  with  blushes,  and  stood  looking  straight  into 
her  mother's  eyes.  Her  mother  turned  from  her 
impatiently. 

"  Do  you  know  what  this  means  ? "  she  said  to 
Shock. 

"  What?  I  don't  understand,"  replied  Shock,  gazing 
helplessly  at  the  haughty,  angry  face  turned  toward 
him. 

"  Have  you  dared  to  speak  to  my  daughter?  " 

"  Oh,  mamma,"  cried  Helen,  in  an  agony  of  morti- 
fication, "  how  can  you?  " 

"  You  may  well  be  ashamed,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks, 
who  had  quite  lost  control  of  herself,  "  throwing  your- 
self at  the  head  of  a  man  so  far  beneath  you,  with  no 
prospects,  and  who  does  not  even  want  you." 

"  So  far  beneath,  did  you  say?  "  cried  Mrs.  Mac- 


"YEA,   AND   HIS   OWN   LIFE   ALSO"  97 

gregor  quickly.  "  Woman,  say  no  more.  You  shame 
yourself,  let  alone  your  child.  Whist," — checking 
the  other's  speech — "  the  blood  in  the  veins  of  Hector 
Macgregor  yonder  "  (pointing  to  the  portrait  of  the 
Highland  soldier  on  the  wall)  "  was  as  proud  as  that 
in  any  Lowland  trader  of  you." 

"  What  sort  of  conduct,  then,  is  this  ?  "  answered 
Mrs.  Fairbanks  angrily.  "  Have  you  encouraged 
your  son  ?  " 

"  Hush,  mother,"  said  Shock,  suddenly  awakening 
tc  an  understanding  of  what  was  happening,  "  let  me 
speak." 

The  stern  voice  compelled  silence.  Shock  was  a 
new  man  to  them  all.  He  was  thinking  quickly  now 
for  his  mother,  for  himself,  but  most  of  all  for  the  girl 
he  loved,  who  stood  with  face  turned  away  and  eyes 
cast  down  in  intolerable  humiliation. 

"  Mrs.  Fairbanks,"  said  Shock,  speaking  slowly  and 
with  quiet  dignity,  "  if  I  have  not  spoken  of  love  to 
your  daughter,  it  is  not  because  I  have  not  loved  her 
well  and  for  long,  but  because  I  could  not  feel  myself 
worthy  of  her.  Hush,  mother;  I  am  not  worthy  of 
her,  nor  shall  I  ever  be,  not  by  reason  of  any  differ- 
ence in  blood, — for  there  is  no  difference, — but  because 
of  what  she  is  herself,  so  far  above  me.  I  have  never 
spoken  with  my  lips  of  love,  and  yet  for  many  and 
many  a  day  I  have  feared  that  my  eyes,  and  all  else 
that  could  speak,  must  have  told  her  I  loved  her.  And 
if  it  should  be — for  I  will  not  pretend  to  misunder- 
stand you — if  it  should  be  that  it  is  possible  she 
should  ever  love  me,  then  there  has  come  to  me  a  joy 


98  THE    PROSPECTOR 

greater  than  I  could  have  hoped,  and  whatever  may 
come  of  it,  this  day  is  the  happiest  of  my  life." 

As  Shock  began  to  speak,  Helen  lifted  her  face, 
and  as  she  listened  her  look  of  grief  and  shame  fled, 
and  in  her  eyes  a  light  of  joy  began  to  dawn,  then 
grew  till  it  seemed  to  overflow  in  waves  across  her 
beautiful  face.  And  as  Shock  continued  his  calm, 
manly  words  pride  mingled  in  her  joy,  and  her  head 
lifted  itself  with  a  grace  and  dignity  that  matched 
that  of  the  old  lady  standing  by  her  side. 

Mrs.  Fairbanks  stood  fairly  speechless  at  Shock's 
words  and  at  the  look  of  joy  and  pride  she  saw  upon 
her  daughter's  face. 

"  This  is  absurd ! "  she  cried  at  length.  "  It's  pre- 
posterous, and  it  must  end  now  and  forever.  I  forbid 
absolutely  anything  in  the  way  of — of  engagement 
or  understanding.  I  will  not  have  my  daughter  tie 
herself  to  a  man  with  such  prospects." 

"  Wait,  mother,"  said  Shock,  putting  his  hand  out 
toward  the  old  lady,  who  was  about  to  speak.  "  Mrs. 
Fairbanks,"  he  continued  quietly,  "  far  be  it  from  me 
to  take  advantage  of  your  daughter  in  any  way,  and  I 
say  to  you  here  that  she  is  as  free  now  as  when  she 
came  into  this  room.  1  shall  not  ask  her  to  bind  her- 
self to  me,  but  I  will  be  false  to  myself,  and  false  to 
her,  if  I  do  not  say  that  I  love  her  as  dearly  as  man 
ever  loved  woman,  and  come  what  may,  I  shall  love  her 
till  I  die." 

The  ring  in  Shock's  voice  as  he  spoke  the  last  words 
thrilled  everyone  in  the  room. 

"  Ay,  lad,  that  you  will,"  said  his  mother  proudly. 


"YEA,   AND    HIS    OWN    LIFE    ALSO"  99 

"  Oh,  aint  he  great,"  whispered  Brown  to  Betty, 
who  in  her  excitement  had  drawn  close  to  him. 

Betty  responded  with  a  look,  but  could  not  trust 
herself  to  speak. 

The  moment  was  pregnant  with  possibilities. 

As  Shock  finished  speaking,  Helen,  with  an  inde- 
scribable mingling  of  shy  grace  and  calm  strength, 
came  and  stood  by  his  side.  For  the  first  time  Shock 
lost  control  of  himself.  He  flushed  hotly,  then  grew 
pale,  then  with  a  slightly  defiant  look  in  his  face,  he 
put  his  arm  lightly  about  her. 

"  Time  for  that  train,"  said  Brown,  who  had  slipped 
to  the  outer  door.  "  That  is,"  he  continued  in  his 
briskest  manner,  "  if  you're  going." 

With  a  quick  gasp  Helen  turned  towards  Shock. 
He  tightened  his  arm  about  the  girl,  and  putting  his 
hand  upon  her  shoulder,  turned  her  face  toward  him 
and  looked  down  into  her  face. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  said  gently.  "  Remember  you  are 
free,  free  as  ever  you  were.  I  have  no  claim  upon 
you,  but  don't  forget  that  I  will  always  love  you.  I 
will  never  forget  you," 

"  Good-bye,  Shock,"  she  replied  in  a  low,  sweet 
tone,  lifting  her  face  to  him.  "  I  will  not  forget. 
You  know  I  will  not  forget." 

She  slipped  her  arm  around  his  neck,  and  while  his 
great  frame  trembled  with  emotion  she  held  him  fast. 
"I'll  not  forget,"  she  said  again,  the  light  in  her 
great  grey  eyes  quenched  in  a  quick  rush  of  tears. 
"You  know,  Shock,  I  will  not  forget."  Her  lips 
quivered  piteously. 


100  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Then  Shock  cast  restraint  to  the  winds.  "  No,"  he 
cried  aloud,  "  you  will  not  forget,  thank  God,  you  will 
not  forget,  and  you  are  mine!" 

He  drew  her  close  to  him,  held  her  a  moment  or  two, 
looking  into  her  eyes,  and  as  she  lay  limp  and  cling- 
ing in  his  arms  he  kissed  her  on  the  brow,  and  then 
on  the  lips,  and  gave  her  to  his  mother. 

"  Here,  mother,"  he  said,  "  take  her,  be  good  to 
her,  love  her  for  my  sake." 

He  put  his  arms  around  his  mother,  kissed  her  twice, 
and  was  gone. 

"  He'll  never  get  that  train,"  cried  Betty. 

"  Take  the  carriage,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks  shortly, 
"  and  follow  him." 

"  Come  along !  hurry ! "  said  Betty,  catching 
Brown's  arm. 

"The  station,  John!" 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  gasped  Brown,  seizing  Betty's  hand 
and  crushing  it  ecstatically,  "  may  I  embrace  you  ? 
It's  either  you  or  John  there." 

"  Do  be  quiet.  It  seems  to  me  we  have  had  as  much 
of  that  sort  of  thing  as  I  can  stand.  Wasn't  it 
awful?  " 

"Awful?  Awfully  jolly!"  gasped  Brown,  hug- 
ging himself.  "  Haven't  had  a  thrill  approach- 
ing that  since  the  McGill  match,  and  even  that 
was  only  a  pale  adumbration  of  what  I've  just  been 
through." 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  to  think.  It's  so 
dreadfully  startling." 

"  Startling !  "    cried    Brown.     "  Come    now,    Miss 


"YEA,   AND   HIS    OWN   LIFE    ALSO"  101 

Betty,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  haven't  seen  this 
growing  for  the  past  six  months !  " 

"  No,  truly  I  haven't." 

"  Well,  that's  only  because  you  have  been  so  occu- 
pied with  your  own  affairs." 

"Nonsense,"  cried  Betty  indignantly,  with  a  sud- 
den flame  of  colour  in  her  cheeks.  "  You're  quite 
rude." 

"  I  don't  care  for  anything  now,"  cried  Brown 
recklessly.  "  My  prayers,  tears,  and  alms-giving 
haven't  been  without  avail.  The  terrors  and  agonies 
I've  endured  this  last  few  days  lest  that  old  blockhead 
should  take  himself  off  without  saying  or  doing  any- 
thing, no  man  will  ever  know.  And  he  would  have 
gone  off,  too,  had  it  not  been  for  that  lucky  fluke  of 
your  mother's.  Do  you  mind  if  I  yell?  " 

"  Hush !  Here,  let  my  hand  go,  it's  quite  useless," 
said  Betty,  looking  at  that  member  which  Brown  had 
just  relinquished. 

"  John,"  gravely  enquired  Brown,  "  are  you  using 
both  your  hands  ?  " 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  enquired  the  astonished  coach- 
man, half  turning  round. 

"  Here,  do  stop  your  nonsense,"  cried  Betty  in  a 
shocked  voice. 

"Oh,  all  right,  John,  this  will  do,"  said  Brown, 
seizing  Betty's  hand  again,  as  John  gave  his  atten- 
tion to  the  horses. 

"  I  say,  pull  up  beside  Mr.  Macgregor  there,  will 
you?  Here,  Shock,  get  in.  You'll  miss  your  train. 
Here,  you  old  bloke,  come  along,  don't  gape  like  a 


$02  THE    PROSPECTOR 

sick  duck.  Get  in  here.  You  have  got  to  get  that 
train  now." 

"  Mr.  Brown,"  said  Betty  in  a  severe  whisper, 
"  mind,  don't  say  a  word  to  him  about  this  business. 
I  can't  stand  it." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Brown,  in  a  matter  of  fact 
tone.  "  There's  nothing  to  be  said." 

But  there  was  one  last  word  to  be  said,  and  that  was 
Betty's. 

"  Good-bye,  Shock,"  she  whispered  to  him,  as  he 
stepped  upon  his  train.  "  I  think — I  know — I'm 
very  glad." 

Poor  Shock  could  only  grasp  her  hand  in  mute 
farewell.  It  was  just  dawning  upon  him  that  he  had 
some  further  offering  to  bring  to  make  his  sacrifice 
complete. 


VI 
ON    THE    TR&IL 

r-pl  HAT'S    the    traU.      Loon    Lake    lie* 
1  yonder." 

Shock's  Convener,  who  had  charge  for 
his  Church  of  this  district,  stood  by  the 
buck-board  wheel  pointing  southwest.  He  was  a 
man  about  middle  life,  rather  short  but  well  set  up, 
with  a  strong,  honest  face,  tanned  and  bearded,  re- 
deemed abundantly  from  commonness  by  the  eye,  deep 
blue  and  fearless,  that  spoke  of  the  genius  in  the  soul. 
It  was  a  kindly  face  withal,  and  with  humour  lurking 
about  the  eyes  and  mouth.  During  the  day  and 
night  spent  with  him  Shock  had  come  to  feel  that  in 
this  man  there  was  anchorage  for  any  who  might  feel 
themselves  adrift,  and  somehow  the  great  West,  with 
its  long  leagues  of  empty  prairie  through  which  he 
had  passed,  travelling  by  the  slow  progress  of  con- 
struction  trains,  would  now  seem  a  little  less  empty 
because  of  this  man.  Between  the  new  field  toward 
which  this  trail  led  and  the  home  and  folk  in  the  far 
East  there  would  always  be  this  man  who  would  know 
him,  and  would  sometimes  be  thinking  of  him.  The 
thought  heartened  Shock  more  than  a  little. 

"That's  the  trail,"  repeated  the  Convener;  "fol- 
low that ;  it  will  lead  you  to  your  home." 

"Home!"  thought  Shock  with  a  tug  at  his  heart 
and  a  queer  little  smile  on  his  face. 


JQ4  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Yes,  a  man's  home  is  where  his  heart  is,  and  his 
heart  is  where  his  work  lies." 

Shock  glanced  quickly  at  the  man's  tanned  face. 
Did  he  suspect,  Shock  wondered,  the  homesickness 
and  the  longing  in  his  heart? 

Last  night,  as  they  had  sat  together  in  late  talk, 
he  had  drawn  from  Shock  witK  cunning  skill  (those 
who  knew  him  would  recognise  the  trick)  the  picture 
of  his  new  missionary's  home,  and  had  interpreted 
aright  the  thrill  in  the  voice  that  told  of  the  old  lady 
left  behind.  But  now,  as  Shock  glanced  at  his  Con- 
vener's face,  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  any  hidden 
meaning  in  his  words.  The  speaker's  eyes  were  far 
down  the  trail  that  wound  like  a  wavering  white  rib- 
bon over  the  yellow-green  billows  of  prairie  that 
reached  to  the  horizon  before  and  up  to  the  great 
mountains  on  the  right. 

"Twenty  miles  will  bring  you  to  Spruce  Creek 
stopping-place;  twenty  miles  more  and  you  are  at 
Big  River — not  so  very  big  either.  You  will  see  there 
a  little  school  and  beside  it,  on  the  left,  a  little  house — 
you  might  call  it  a  shack,  but  we  make  the  most  of 
things  out  here.  That's  Mr.  Mclntyre's  manse,  and 
proud  of  it  they  all  are,  I  can  tell  you.  You  will  stay 
with  him  over  night — a  fine  fellow  you  will  find  him, 
a  Nova  Scotian,  very  silent;  and  better  than  himself 
is  the  little  brave  woman  he  has  for  a  wife ;  a  really 
superior  woman.  I  sometimes  wonder — but  never 
mind,  for  people  doubtless  wonder  at  our  wives:  one 
can  never  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  mystery  of  why: 
some  women  do  it.  They  will  see  you  on  your  way. 


ON    THE    TRAIL  105 

Up  to  this  time  he  was  the  last  man  we  had  in  that 
direction.  Now  you  are  our  outpost — a  distinction  I 
envy  you." 

The  Convener's  blue  eye  was  alight  with  enthusi- 
asm. The  call  of  the  new  land  was  ever  ringing  in 
his  heart,  and  the  sound  of  the  strife  at  the  front  in 
his  ear. 

Unconsciously  Shock  drew  in  a  long  breath,  the 
homesickness  and  heart-longing  gave  back  before 
the  spirit  of  high  courage  and  enterprise  which 
breathed  through  the  words  of  the  little  man  beside 
him,  whose  fame  was  in  all  the  Western  Church. 

"  Up  these  valleys  somewhere,"  continued  the  Con- 
vener, waving  his  hands  towards  the  southern  sky-line, 
"  are  the  men — the  ranchers  and  cowboys  I  told  you 
of  last  night.  Some  good  men,  and  some  of  them 
devils — men  good  by  nature,  devils  by  circumstance, 
poor  fellows.  They  won't  want  you,  perhaps,  but 
they  need  you  badly.  And  the  Church  wants  them, 
and  " — after  a  little  pause — "  God  wants  them." 

The  Convener  paused,  still  looking  at  the  distant 
flowing  hills.  Then  he  turned  to  Shock  and  said 
solemnly,  "  We  look  to  you  to  get  them." 

Shock  gasped.     "  To  me !  to  get  them ! " 

"Yes,  that's  what  we  expect.  Why!  do  you 
remember  the  old  chap  I  told  you  about — that  old  pros- 
pector who  lives  at  Loon  Lake? — you  will  come  across 
him,  unless  he  has  gone  to  the  mountains.  For 
thirteen  years  that  man  has  hunted  the  gulches  for 
mines.  There  are  your  mines,"  waving  his  hand 
again,  "  and  you  are  our  prospector.  Dig  them  up. 


106  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Good-bye.     God   bless   you.     Report   to   me    in    six 
months." 

The  Convener  looked  at  his  fingers  after  Shock 
had  left,  spreading  them  apart.  "Well,  what  that 
chap  grips  he'll  hold  until  he  wants  to  let  it  go,"  he 
said  to  himself,  wrinkling  his  face  into  a  curious 
smile. 

Now  and  then  as  he  walked  along  the  trail  he  turned 
and  looked  after  the  buckboard  heading  toward  the 
southern  horizon,  but  never  once  did  his  missionary 
look  back. 

"  I  think  he  will  do.  He  made  a  mess  of  my  service 
last  night,  but  I  suppose  he  was  rattled,  and  then  no 
one  could  be  more  disgusted  than  he,  which  is  not  a 
bad  sign.  His  heart's  all  right,  and  he  will  work, 
but  he's  slow.  He's  undoubtedly  slow.  Those  fel- 
lows will  give  him  a  time,  I  fear,"  and  again  the  Con- 
vener smiled  to  himself.  As  he  came  to  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  where  the  trail  dipped  into  the  river  bottom 
in  which  the  little  town  lay  that  constituted  the  nu- 
cleus of  his  parish,  he  paused  and,  once  more  turning, 
looked  after  the  diminishing  buckboard.  u  He  won't 
look  back,  eh !  All  right,  my  man.  I  like  you  better 
for  it.  It  must  have  been  a  hard  pull  to  leave  that 
dear  old  lady  behind.  He  might  bring  her  out. 
There  are  just  the  two  of  them.  Well,  we  will  see. 
It's  pretty  close  shaving." 

He  was  thinking  of  the  threatened  cut  in  the  al- 
ready meagre  salaries  of  his  missionaries,  rendered 
necessary  by  the  disproportion  between  the  growth  of 
the  funds  and  the  expansion  of  the  work. 


ON    THE    TRAIL  107 

"It's  a  shame,  too,"  he  said,  turning  and  looking 
once  more  after  Shock  in  case  there  should  be  a  final 
signal  of  farewell,  which  he  would  be  sorry  to  miss. 

"  They're  evidently  everything  to  each  other."  But 
it  was  an  old  problem  with  the  Convener,  whose  solu- 
tion lay  not  with  him,  but  with  the  church  that  sent 
him  out  to  do  this  work. 

Meantime  Shock's  eyes  were  upon  the  trail,  and  his 
heart  was  ringing  with  that  last  word  of  his  Con- 
vener. "  We  expect  you  to  get  them.  You  are  our 
prospector,  dig  them  up."  As  he  thought  of  the 
work  that  lay  before  him,  and  of  all  he  was  expected 
to  achieve,  his  heart  sank.  These  wild,  independent 
men  of  the  West  were  not  at  all  like  the  degraded  men 
of  the  ward,  fawning  or  sullen,  who  had  been  his 
former  and  only  parishioners.  A  horrible  fear  had 
been  growing  upon  him  ever  since  his  failure,  as  he 
considered  it,  with  the  Convener's  congregation  the 
night  before.  It  helped  him  not  at  all  to  remember 
the  kindly  words  of  encouragement  spoken  by  the 
Convener,  nor  the  sympathy  that  showed  in  his  wife's 
voice  and  manner.  "  They  felt  sorry  for  me,"  he 
groaned  aloud.  He  set  his  jaws  hard,  as  men  had  seen 
him  when  going  into  a  scrim  on  the  football  field. 
"I'll  do  my  best  whatever,"  he  said  aloud,  looking 
before  him  at  the  waving  horizon ;  "  a  man  can  only 
fail.  But  surely  I  can  help  some  poor  chap  out 
yonder."  His  eyes  followed  the  waving  foot-hill  line 
till  they  rested  on  the  mighty  masses  of  the  Rockies. 
"  Ay,"  he  said  with  a  start,  dropping  into  his  mother's 
speech,  "  there  they  are,  '  the  hills  from  whence 


108  THE    PROSPECTOR 

cometh  my  help.'     Surely,  I  do  not  think  He  would 
send  me  out  here  to  fail." 

There  they  lay,  that  mighty  wrinkling  of  Mother 
Earth's  old  face,  huge,  jagged  masses  of  bare  grey 
rock,  patched  here  and  there,  and  finally  capped  with 
white  where  they  pierced  the  blue.  Up  to  their  base 
ran  the  lumbering  foot-hills,  and  still  further  up  the 
grey  sides,  like  attacking  columns,  the  dark  daring 
pines  swarmed  in  massed  battlions ;  then,  where  ravines 
gave  them  footing,  in  regiments,  then  in  outpost 
pickets,  and  last  of  all  in  lonely  rigid  sentinels.  But 
far  above  the  loneliest  sentinel  pine,  cold,  white,  serene, 
shone  the  peaks.  The  Highland  blood  in  Shock's 
veins  stirred  to  the  call  of  the  hills.  Glancing  around 
to  make  sure  he  was  quite  alone — he  had  almost  never 
been  where  he  could  be  quite  sure  that  he  would  not 
be  heard — Shock  raised  his  voice  in  a  shout,  again, 
and,  expanding  his  lungs  to  the  full,  once  again. 
How  small  his  voice  seemed,  how  puny  his  strength, 
how  brief  his  life,  in  the  presence  of  those  silent, 
mighty,  ancient  ranges  with  their  hoary  faces  and 
snowy  heads.  Awed  by  their  solemn  silence,  and  by 
the  thought  of  their  ancient,  eternal,  unchanging  en- 
durance, he  repeated  to  himself  in  a  low  tone  the  words 
of  the  ancient  Psalm: 

"  Lord,  Thou  hast  been  our  dwelling-place, 

In  generations  all, 
Before  Thou  ever  hadst  brought  forth 

The  mountains,  great  or  small !  " 

How  exalting  are  the  mountains  and  how  humbling ! 
How  lonely  and  how  comforting !  How  awesome  and 


ON    THE    TRAIL  109 

how  kindly!  How  relentless  and  how  sympathetic! 
Reflecting  every  mood  of  man,  they  add  somewhat  to 
his  nobler  stature  and  diminish  somewhat  his  ignobler 
self.  To  all  true  appeal  they  give  back  answer,  but 
to  the  heart  regarding  iniquity,  like  God,  they  make 
no  response,  ,  They  never  obtrude  themselves,  but 
they  smile  upon  his  joys,  and  in  his  sorrow  offer  silent 
sympathy,  and  ever  as  God's  messengers  they  bid  him 
remember  that  with  all  their  mass  man  is  mightier 
than  they,  that  when  the  slow  march  of  the  pines  shall 
have  trod  down  their  might's  dust,  still  with  the  dew  of 
eternal  youth  fresh  upon  his  brow  will  he  be  with 
God. 

Then  and  there  in  Shock's  heart  there  sprang  up 
a  kindly  feeling  for  the  mountains  that  through  all 
his  varying  experiences  never  left  him.  They  were 
always  there,  steadfastly  watchful  by  day  like  the 
eye  of  God,  and  at  night  while  he  slept  keeping  un- 
slumbering  guard  like  Jehovah  himself.  All  day  as 
he  drove  up  the  interminable  slopes  and  down  again, 
the  mountains  kept  company  with  him,  as  friends 
might.  So  much  so  that  he  caught  himself,  more  than 
once  after  moments  of  absorption,  glancing  up  at 
them  with  hasty  penitence.  He  had  forgotten  them, 
but  unoffended  they  had  been  watching  and  waiting 
for  him. 

A  little  after  noon  Shock  found  the  trail  turn  in 
toward  a  long,  log,  low-roofed  building,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  erected  in  sections,  with  an  irregular 
group  of  sod-roofed  out-houses  clustering  about. 

An  old  man  lounged  against  the  jamb  of  the  open 
cioor.  \ 


110  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Good  day,"  said  Shock  politely. 

The  old  man  looked  him  over  for  a  moment  or  two 
and  then  answered  as  if  making  a  concession  of  some 
importance,  "  Good  day,  good  day !  From  town  ? 
Want  to  eat?" 

A  glance  through  the  door,  showing  the  remains 
of  dinner  on  a  table,  determined  Shock.  "  No,  I  guess 
I'll  push  on." 

"All  right,"  said  the  old  man,  his  tone  suggesting 
that  while  it  was  a  matter  of  supreme  indifference 
to  him,  to  Shock  it  might  be  a  somewhat  serious  con- 
cern to  neglect  to  eat  in  his  house. 

"  This  is  Spruce  Creek?  "  enquired  Shock. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  that's  what  they  call  it,"  said  the 
old  man  with  slow  deliberation,  adding  after  a  few 
moments  silence  "  because  there  ain't  no  spruces  here." 

Shock  gave  the  expected  laugh  with  such  hearti- 
ness that  the  old  man  deigned  to  take  some  little  in- 
terest in  him. 

"Cattle?"  he  enquired. 

"  No." 

"Sport?" 

"  Well,  a  little,  perhaps." 

"Oh!  Pospectin',  eh?  Well,  land's  pretty  well 
taken  up  in  this  vicinity,  I  guess." 

To  this  old  man  there  were  no  other  interests  in  life 
beyond  cattle,  sport,  and  prospcting  that  could  ac- 
count for  the  stranger's  presence  in  this  region. 

"Yes,"  laughed  Shock,  "prospecting  in  a  way9 
too." 

The  old  man  was  obviously  puzzled. 


ON    THE    TRAIL  111 

"  Well,"  he  ventured,  "  come  inside,  anyway. 
Pretty  chilly  wind  that  for  April.  Come  right  in !" 

Shock  stepped  in.  The  old  man  drew  nearer  to 
him. 

"Pain-killer  or  lime-juice?"  he  enquired  in  an 
insinuating  voice. 

"What?"  said  Shock. 

"  Pain-killer  or  lime-juice,"  winking  and  lowering 
his  voice  to  a  confidential  tone. 

"  Well,  as  I  haven't  got  any  pain  I  guess  I'll  take 
a  little  lime-juice,"  replied  Shock. 

The  old  man  gave  him  another  wink,  long  and  slow, 
went  to  the  corner  of  the  room,  pushed  back  a  table, 
pulled  up  a  board  from  the  floor,  and  extracted  a 
bottle. 

"You's  got  to  be  mighty  careful,"  he  said. 
"  Them  blank  police  fellers,  instead  of  attending  to 
their  business,  nose  round  till  a  feller  can't  take  no 
rest  at  night." 

He  went  to  a  shelf  that  stood  behind  the  plank  that 
did  for  a  counter,  took  down  two  glasses,  and  filled 
them  up. 

"  There,"  he  said  with  great  satisfaction,  "  you'll 
find  that's  no  back-yard  brew." 

Shock  slowly  lifted  the  glass  and  smelt  it.  "  Why, 
it's  whisky ! "  he  said  in  a  surprised  tone. 

"Ha!  ha!"  burst  out  the  old  man.  "You're  a 
dandy;  that's  what  it  is  at  home." 

He  was  delighted  with  his  guest's  fine  touch  of 
humour.  Shock  hesitated  a  moment  or  two,  looking 
down  at  the  whisky  in  the  glass  before  him. 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  How  much?  "  he  said  at  length. 

"  Oh,  we'll  make  that  fifty  cents  to  you,"  said  the 
old  man  carelessly. 

Shock  put  down  the  money,  lifted  his  glass  slowly, 
carried  it  to  the  door  and  threw  the  contents  outside. 

"  Hold  on  there !  What  the  blank,  blank  do  you 
mean  ?  "  The  old  man  was  over  the  counter  with  a 
bound. 

"  It  was  mine,"  said  Shock  quietly. 

"  Yours,"  shouted  the  old  man,  beside  himself  with 
rage ;  "  I  aint  goin'  to  stand  no  such  insult  as  that." 

"Insult!" 

"  What's  the  matter  with  that  whisky?  " 

"All  right  as  far  as  I  know,  but  I  wanted  lime- 
juice." 

"Lime-juice!"  The  old  man's  amazement  some- 
what subdued  his  anger.  "Lime-juice!  Well,  I'll 
be  blanked!" 

"That's  what  I  asked  for,"  replied  Shock  good- 
naturedly. 

"Lime-juice!"  repeated  the  old  man.  "But  what 
in  blank,  blank  did  you  throw  it  out  for  ?  " 

"Why,  what  else  could  I  do  with  it?  " 

"What  else?  See  here,  stranger,  the  hull  popula- 
tion of  this  entire  vicinity  isn't  more  than  twenty-five 
persons,  but  every  last  one  of  'em  twenty-five  'ud  told 
you  what  to  do  with  it.  Why  didn't  you  give  it 
to  me?" 

"  Why,"  said  Shock  in  a  surprised  tone,  "  I  don't 
know  the  ways  of  your  country,  but  where  I  come 
from  we  don't  take  any  man's  leavings." 


ON    THE    TRAIL  113 

This  was  new  light  upon  the  subject  for  the  old 
man. 

"Well,  now,  see  here,  young  man,  if  ever  you're 
in  doubt  again  about  a  glass  of  whisky  like  that  one 
there,  you  just  remark  to  yourself  that  while  there 
may  be  a  few  things  you  might  do  with  it,  there's 
just  one  you  can't.  There's  only  one  spot  for 
whisky,  and  that's  inside  some  fellow  that  knows 
something.  Heavens  and  earth !  Didn't  know  what 
to  do  with  it,  eh?" 

He  peered  curiously  into  Shock's  face  as  if  he 
found  him  an  interesting  study. 

"  No,"  said  Shock  seriously,  "  you  see,  I  couldn't 
drink  it — never  did  in  my  life." 

The  old  man  drew  nearer  to  him.  "  Say,"  touching 
him  with  his  forefinger  on  the  chest,  "  if  I  could  only 
be  sure  you'd  keep  fresh  I'd  put  you  in  a  case. 
They'd  come  a  mighty  long  way  in  this  country  to 
see  you,  you  bet." 

Bill  Lee's  anger  and  disgust  were  giving  place  to 
curiosity. 

"  What  are  you,  anyway  ?  "  he  enquired. 

"  Well,  my  boss  told  me  to-day  I  was  a  prospector." 
Shock's  mind  reverted,  as  he  spoke,  to  that  last  con- 
versation with  his  Convener. 

"  Prospector,"  echoed  the  old  man.  "  What  for, 
land,  coal?  " 

"  No,  men." 

"What?"  The  old  man  looked  as  if  he  could 
not  have  heard  aright. 

"Men,"  said  Shock  again  simply  and  earnestly. 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

Bill  was  hopelessly  puzzled.  He  tried  to  get  at  it 
another  way. 

"What's  your  Company?"  he  enquired.  "I 
mean  who  are  you  working  for?" 

Before  answering  Shock  paused,  looking  far  past 
Bill  down  the  trail  and  then  said  solemnly,  "  God." 

Bill  started  back  from  his  companion  with  a  gasp 
of  surprise.  Was  the  man  mad?  Putting  the  in- 
cident of  the  whisky  and  this  answer  of  his  together, 
he  might  well  be. 

"  Yes,"  said  Shock,  withdrawing  his  eyes  from  the 
trail  and  facing  Bill  squarely.  "  That's  my  business. 
I  am  after  men."  He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small 
Bible  and  read,  "  Follow  me  and  I  will  make  you 
fishers  of  men." 

When  Bill  saw  the  Bible  he  looked  relieved,  but 
rather  disgusted. 

"  Oh,  I  git  you  now!     You're  a  preacher,  eh?  " 

"Well,"  said  Shock  in  a  tone  almost  confidential, 
"  I'll  tell  you  I'm  not  much  of  a  preacher.  I  don't 
think  I'm  cut  out  for  that,  somehow."  Here  Bill 
brightened  slightly.  "  I  tried  last  night  in  town," 
continued  Shock,  "  and  it  was  pretty  bad.  I  don't 
know  who  had  the  worst  of  it,  the  congregation  or 
myself.  But  it  was  bad." 

"Thinkin'  of  quittin'?"  Bill  asked  almost  eagerly, 
"  Because  if  you  are,  I  know  a  good  job  for  a  fellow 
of  your  build  and  make." 

"  No,  I  can't  quit.  I  have  got  to  go  on."  Bill's 
face  fell.  "And  perhaps  I  can  make  up  in  some 
other  ways.  I  may  be  able  to  help  some  fellows  a 


ON    THE    TRAIL  115 

bit."  The  sincerity  and  humble  earnestness  of 
Shock's  tone  quite  softened  Bill's  heart.  » 

"Well,  there's  lots  of  'em  need  it,"  he  said  in  his 
gruff  voice.  "  There's  the  blankest  lot  of  fools  on 
these  ranches  you  ever  seen." 

Shock  became  alert.  He  was  on  the  track  of 
business. 

"  What's  wrong  with  them  ?  "  he  enquired. 

"Wrong?  Why,  they  aint  got  no  sense.  They 
stock  up  with  cattle,  horses,  and  outfit  to  beat  crea- 
tion, and  then  let  the  whole  thing  go  to  blazes." 

"What's  the  matter  with  them?"  persisted  Shock, 
"  Are  they  lazy  ?  " 

66  Lazy !  not  a  hair.  But  when  they  get  together 
over  a  barrel  of  beer  or  a  keg  of  whisky  they  are 
like  a  lot  of  hogs  in  a  swill  trough,  and  they  won't 
quit  while  they  kin  stand.  That's  no  way  for  a 
man  to  drink ! "  continued  Bill  in  deep  disgust. 

"  Why,  is  not  this  a  Prohibition  country  ?  " 

"Oh!  Prohibition  be  blanked!  When  any  man 
kin  get  a  permit  for  all  he  wants  to  use,  besides  all 
that  the  whisky  men  bring  in,  what's  the  good  of 
Prohibition?" 

"  I  see,"  said  Shock.  "  Poor  chaps.  It  must  be 
pretty  slow  for  them  here." 

"Slow!"  exclaimed  Bill.  "That  aint  no  reason 
for  a  man's  bein'  a  fool.  I  aint  no  saint,  but  I  know 
when  to  quit." 

"  Well,  you're  lucky,"  said  Shock.  "  Because  I  have 
seen  lots  of  men  that  don't,  and  they're  the  fellows 
that  need  a  little  help,  don't  you  think  so?  " 


116  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Bill  squirmed  a  little  uneasily. 

"  You  can't  keep  an  eye  on  all  the  fools  unless  you 
round  'em  up  in  corral,"  he  grunted. 

"  No.  But  a  man  can  keep  from  thinking  more  of 
a  little  tickling  in  his  stomach  than  he  does  of  the 
life  of  his  fellowman." 

"  Well,  what  I  say  is,"  replied  Bill,  "  every  fellow's 
got  to  look  after  himself." 

"  Yes,"  agreed  Shock,  "  and  a  little  after  the  other 
fellows,  too.  If  a  man  is  sick " 

"  Oh !  now  you're  speakin',"  interrupted  Bill 
eagerly.  "  Why,  certainly." 

"  Or  if  he  is  not  very  strong." 

"  Why,  of  course." 

"  Now,  don't  you  think,"  said  Shock  very  earnestly, 
"  that  kicking  a  man  along  that  is  already  sliding 
toward  a  precipice  is  pretty  mean  business,  but  snatch- 
ing him  back  and  bracing  him  up  is  worth  a  man's 
while?" 

"  Well,  I  guess,"  said  Bill  quietly. 

"  That's  the  business  I'm  trying  to  do,"  said  Shock. 
"  I'd  hate  to  help  a  man  down  who  is  already  on  the 
incline.  I  think  I'd  feel  mean,  and  if  I  can  help  one 
man  back  to  where  it's  safe,  I  think  it's  worth  while, 
don't  you?" 

Bill  appeared  uncomfortable.  He  could  not  get 
angry,  Shock's  manner  was  so  earnest,  frank,  respect- 
ful, and  sincere,  and  at  the  same  time  he  was  sharp 
enough  to  see  the  bearing  of  Shock's  remarks  upon 
what  was  at  least  a  part  of  his  business  in  life. 

"Yes,"  repeated  Shock  with  enthusiasm,  "that's 


ON    THE    TRAIL  117 

worth  while.  Now,  look  here,  if  you  saw  a  man  slid- 
ing down  one  of  those  rocks  there,"  pointing  to  the 
great  mountains  in  the  distance,  "  to  sure  death,  would 
you  let  him  slide,  or  would  you  put  your  hand  out  to 
help  him?  " 

"  Well,  I  believe  I'd  try,"  said  Bill  slowly. 

"  But  if  there  was  good  money  in  it  for  you,"  con- 
tinued Shock,  "  you  would  send  him  along,  eh  ?  " 

"  Say,  stranger,"  cried  Bill  indignantly,  "  what  do 
you  think  I  am?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Shock,  "  there's  a  lot  of  men  sliding 
down  fast  about  here,  you  say.  What  are  you  doing 
about  it?"  Shock's  voice  was  quiet,  solemn,  almost 
stern. 

"  I  say,"  said  Bill,  "  you'd  best  put  up  your  horse 
and  feed.  Yes,  you've  got  to  feed,  both  of  you,  and 
this  is  the  best  place  you'll  find  for  twenty  miles 
round,  so  come  right  on.  You're  line  ain't  mine,  but 
you're  white.  I  say,  though,"  continued  Bill,  un- 
hitching the  cayuse,  "  it's  a  pity  you've  taken  up  that 
preachin'  business.  I've  not  much  use  for  that.  Now, 
with  that  there  build  of  yours  " — Bill  was  evidently 
impressed  with  Shock's  form — "  you'd  be  fit  for 
almost  anything." 

Shock  smiled  and  then  grew  serious. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I've  got  to  live  only  once,  and 
nothing  else  seemed  good  enough  for  a  fellow's  life." 

"What,  preachin'?" 

"  No.  Stopping  men  from  sliding  over  the  preci- 
pice and  helping  them  back.  The  fact  is,"  and  Shock 
looked  over  the  cayuse's  back  into  Bill's  eyes,  "  every. 


118  THE    PROSPECTOR 

man  should  take  a  hand  at  that.  There's  a  lot  of  sat- 
isfaction in  it." 

"  Well,  stranger,"  replied  Bill,  leading  the  way  to 
the  stable,  "  I  guess  you're  pretty  near  right,  though 
it's  queer  to  hear  me  say  it.  There  aint  much  in 
anything,  anyway.  When  your  horse  is  away  at  the 
front  leadin'  the  bunch  and  everybody  yellin'  for  you, 
you're  happy,  but  when  some  other  fellow's  horse 
makes  the  runnin'  and  the  crowd  gets  a-yellin'  for 
him,  then  you're  sick.  Pretty  soon  you  git  so  you 
don't  care." 

" '  Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is  vanity,' "  quoted  Shock. 
"  Solomon  says  you're  right." 

"  Solomon,  eh  ?  Well,  by  all  accounts  he  hit  quite 
a  gait,  too.  Had  them  all  lookin'  dizzy,  I  reckon. 
Come  on  in.  I'll  have  dinner  in  a  shake." 

Fried  pork  and  flapjacks,  done  brown  in  the  gravy, 
with  black  molasses  poured  over  all,  and  black  tea 
strong  enough  to  float  a  man-of-war,  all  this  with  a 
condiment  of  twenty  miles  of  foot-hill  breezes,  makes 
a  dinner  such  as  no  king  ever  enjoyed.  Shock's  de- 
light in  his  eating  was  so  obvious  that  Bill's  heart 
warmed  towards  him.  No  finer  compliment  can  be 
paid  a  cook  than  to  eat  freely  and  with  relish  of  his 
cooking.  Before  the  meal  was  over  the  men  had  so 
far  broken  through  the  barriers  of  reserve  as  to  ven- 
ture mutual  confidences  about  the  past.  After  Shock 
had  told  the  uneventful  story  of  his  life,  in  which  his 
mother,  of  course,  was  the  central  figure,  Bill  sat  a 
few  moments  in  silence,  and  then  began :  "  Well,  I 
never  knew  my  mother.  My  father  was  a  devil,  so  I 


ON    THE    TRAIL  119 

guess  I  came  naturally  by  all  the  devilment  in  me,  and 
that's  a  few.  But " — and  here  Bill  paused  for  some 
little  time — -"  but  I  had  a  sweetheart  once,  over  forty 
years  ago  now,  down  in  Kansas,  and  she  was  all  right, 
you  bet.  Why,  sir,  she  was — oh!  well,  'taint  no  use 
talkin',  but  I  went  to  church  for  the  year  I  knowed 
her  more'n  all  the  rest  of  my  life  put  together,  and 
was  shapin'  out  for  a  different  line  of  conduct 

until "  Shock  waited  in  silence.  "  After  she 

died  I  didn't  seem  to  care.  I  went  out  to  California, 
knocked  about,  and  then  to  the  devil  generally." 
Shock's  eyes  began  to  shine. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  you  had  no  one  else  to  look 
after— to  think  of." 

"  None  that  I  cared  a  blank  for.  Beg  pardon.  So 
I  drifted  round,  dug  for  gold  a  little,  ranched  a  little, 
just  like  now,  gambled  a  little,  sold  whisky  a 
little,  nothing  very  much.  Didn't  seem  to  care  much, 
and  don't  yet." 

Shock  sat  waiting  for  him  to  continue,  but  hardly 
knew  what  to  say.  His  heart  was  overflowing  with 
pity  for  this  lonely  old  man  whose  life  lay  in  the  past, 
grey  and  colourless,  except  for  that  single  bright 
spot  where  love  had  made  its  mark.  Suddenly  he 
stretched  out  his  hand  toward  the  old  man,  and  said: 
"  What  you  want  is  a  friend,  a  real  good  friend." 

The  old  man  took  his  hand  in  a  quick,  fierce  grip, 
his  hard,  withered  face  lit  up  with  a  soft,  warm  light. 

"  Stranger,"  he  said,  trying  hard  to  keep  his  voice 
steady,  "  I'd  give  all  I  have  for  one." 

"  Let  me  tell  you  about  mine,"  said  Shock  quickly. 


120  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Half  an  hour  later,  as  Bill  stood  looking  after 
Shock  and  rubbing  his  fingers,  he  said  in  soliloquy; 
<c  Well,  I  guess  I'm  gittin'  old.  What  in  thunder  has 
got  into  me,  anyway?  How'd  he  git  me  on  to  that  line? 
Say,  what  a  bunco  steerer  he'd  make !  And  with  that 
face  and  them  eyes  of  his!  No,  'taint  that.  It's 
his  blank  honest  talk.  Hang  if  I  know  what  it  is,  but 
he's  got  it !  He's  white,  I  swear !  But  blank  him !  he 
makes  a  fellow  feel  like  a  thief." 

Bill  went  back  to  his  lonely  ranch  with  his  lonely, 
miserable  life,  unconsciously  trying  to  analyse  his 
new  emotions,  some  of  which  he  would  be  glad  to 
escape,  and  some  he  would  be  loath  to  lose.  He  stood 
at  his  door  a  moment,  looking  in  upon  the  cheerless 
jumble  of  boxes  and  furniture,  and  then  turning,  he 
gazed  across  the  sunny  slopes  to  where  he  could  see 
his  bunch  of  cattle  feeding,  and  with  a  sigh  that  came 
from  the  deepest  spot  in  his  heart,  he  said :  "  Yes,  I 
guess  he's  right.  It's  a  friend  I  need.  That's  what.'9 


vn 

THE    OUTPOST 

UPON  a  slight  swell  of  prairie  stood  the  Out- 
posfr  manse  of  Big  River,  the  sole  and  only 
building   in   the   country   representative  of 
the    great    Church    which    lay    behind    it, 
and    which,    under    able    statesmanship,    was    seek- 
ing to  hold  the   new  West  for  things   high    and 
good.     The  Big  River  people  were  proud  of  their 
manse.     The  minister  was  proud  of  it,  and  with  rea- 
son.   It  stood  for  courage,  faith,  and  self-denial.    To 
the  Convener  and  Superintendent,  in  their  hours  of 
discouragement,  this  little  building  brought  cheer  and 
hope.     For,  while  it  stood  there  it  kept  touch  between 
that  new  country  and  what  was  best  and  most  char- 
teristic  in  Canadian  civilisation,  and  it  was  for  this 
that  they  wrought  and  prayed.     But,  though  to  peo- 
ple and  minister,  Convener  and  Superintendent,  the 
little  manse  meant  so  much,  the  bareness,  the  unloveli- 
ness,  and,  more  than  all,  the  utter  loneliness  of  it  smote 
Shock  with  a  sense  of  depression.     At  first  he  could 
not   explain   to   himself  this   feeling.     It  was   only 
after  he  had  consciously  recognised  the  picture  which 
had  risen  in  contrast  before  his  mind  as  the  home  of 
the  Fairbanks,  that  he  understood. 

121 


122  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  I  could  never  bring  her  to  such  a  house  as  this,*9 
was  his  thought.  "  A  woman  would  die  here." 

And,  indeed,  there  was  much  to  depress  in  the  first 
look  at  the  little  board  building  that  made  a  home  for 
the  Mclntyres,  set  down  on  the  treeless  prairie  with 
only  a  little  wooden  paling  to  defend  it  from  the 
waste  that  gaped  at  it  from  every  side.  The  con- 
trast between  this  bare  speck  of  human  habitation  and 
the  cosy  homes  of  his  native  Province,  set  each  within 
its  sheltering  nest  of  orchard  and  garden,  could  hardly 
have  been  more  complete.  But  as  his  eyes  ran  down 
the  slope  of  the  prairie  and  up  over  the  hills  to  the 
jagged  line  of  peaks  at  the  horizon,  he  was  conscious 
of  a  swift  change  of  feeling.  The  mighty  hills  spoke 
to  his  heart. 

"  Yes,  even  here  one  might  live  contented,"  he  said 
aloud,  and  he  found  himself  picturing  how  the  light 
from  those  great  peaks  would  illumine  the  face  that 
had  grown  so  dear  within  the  last  few  months. 

"  And  my  mother  would  like  it  too,"  he  said,  speak- 
ing once  more  aloud.  So  with  better  heart  he  turned 
from  the  trail  to  the  little  manse  door.  The  moment 
he  passed  within  the  door  all  sense  of  depression  was 
gone.  Out  of  their  bare  little  wooden  house  the  Mc« 
Intyres  had  made  a  home,  a  place  of  comfort  and  of 
rest.  True,  the  walls  were  without  plaster,  brown 
paper  with  factory  cotton  tacked  over  it  taking  its 
place,  but  they  were  wind-proof,  and  besides  were  most 
convenient  for  hanging  things  on.  The  furniture, 
though  chiefly  interesting  as  an  illustration  of  the 
evolution  of  the  packing  box,  was  none  the  less  service- 


THE     OUTPOST  128 

able  and  comfortable.  The  floors  were  as  yet  un- 
carpeted,  but  now  that  April  was  come  the  carpets 
were  hardly  missed.  Then,  too,  the  few  choice  pic- 
tures upon  the  walls,  the  ingenious  bookcase  and  the 
more  ingenious  plate-  and  cup-rack  displaying  honest 
delf  and  some  bits  of  choice  china,  the  draping  cur- 
tains of  muslin  and  cretonne,  all  spoke  of  cultivated 
minds  and  refined  tastes.  Staring  wants  there  were, 
and  many  discrepancies  and  incongruities,  but  no  vul- 
garities nor  coarseness  nor  tawdriness.  What  they  had 
was  fitting.  What  was  fitting  but  beyond  their  means 
these  brave  home-makers  did  without,  and  all  things 
unfitting,  however  cheap,  they  scorned.  And  Shock, 
though  he  knew  nothing  of  the  genesis  and  evolution 
of  this  home  and  its  furnishings,  was  sensible  of  its 
atmosphere  of  quiet  comfort  and  refinement.  The 
welcome  of  the  Mclntyres  was  radiant  with  good 
cheer  and  hearty  hospitality. 

It  was  partly  the  sea-rover  in  his  blood,  making 
impossible  the  familiar  paths  trodden  bare  of  any  ex- 
perience that  could  stir  the  heart  or  thrill  the  imagina- 
tion, but  more  that  high  ambition  that  dwells  in  noble 
youth,  making  it  responsive  to  the  call  of  duty  where 
duty  is  difficult  and  dangerous,  that  sent  David  Mc- 
Intyre  out  from  his  quiet  country  home  in  Nova 
Scotia  to  the  far  West.  A  brilliant  course  in  Pictou 
Academy,  that  nursing  mother  of  genius  for  that 
Province  by  the  sea,  a  still  more  brilliant  course  in 
Dalhousie,  and  afterwards  in  Pine  Hill,  promised 
young  Mclntyre  anything  he  might  desire  in  the  way 
of  scholastic  distinction.  The  remonstrance  of  one 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

of  his  professors,  when  he  learned  of  the  intention  of 
his  brilliant  and  most  promising  student  to  give  his 
life  to  Western  mission  work,  was  characteristic  of 
the  attitude  of  almost  the  whole  Canadian  Church 
of  that  day. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Mclntyre!"  said  the  Professor,  "there 
is  no  need  for  such  a  man  as  you  to  go  to  the  West." 

Equally  characteristic  of  the  man  was  Mclntyre's 
reply. 

"  But,  Professor,  someone  must  go ;  and  besides 
that  seems  to  me  great  work,  and  I'd  like  to  have  a 
hand  in  it." 

It  was  the  necessity,  the  difficulty,  and  the  promise 
of  the  work  that  summoned  young  Mclntyre  from  all 
the  openings,  vacancies,  positions,  and  appointments 
his  friends  were  so  eagerly  waving  before  his  eyes 
and  set  him  among  the  foot-hills  in  the  far  front  as 
the  first  settled  minister  of  Big  River,  the  pride  of  his 
Convener's  heart,  the  friend  and  shepherd  of  the  scat- 
tered farmers  and  ranchers  of  the  district.  Once  only 
did  he  come  near  to  regretting  his  choice,  and  then 
not  for  his  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  young 
girl  whom  he  had  learned  to  love  and  whose  love  he 
had  gained  during  his  student  days.  Would  she 
leave  home  and  friends  and  the  social  circle  of  which 
she  was  the  brightest  ornament  for  all  that  he  could 
offer?  He  had  often  written  to  her,  picturing  in 
the  radiant  colours  of  his  own  Western  sky  the 
glory  of  prairie,  foot-hill,  and  mountain,  the  great- 
ness and  promise  of  the  new  land,  and  the  worth  of 
the  work  he  was  trying  to  do.  But  his  two  years 


THE     OUTPOST  125 

of  missionary  experience  had  made  him  feel  the  hard- 
ship, the  isolation,  the  meagreness,  of  the  life  which 
she  would  have  to  share  with  him.  The  sunset  colours 
were  still  there,  but  they  were  laid  upon  ragged  rock, 
lonely  hill,  and  wind-swept,  empty  prairie.  It  took 
him  days  of  hard  riding  and  harder  thinking  to  give 
final  form  to  the  last  paragraph  of  his  letter: 

"I  have  tried  faithfully  to  picture  my  life  and 
work.  Can  you  brave  all  this?  Should  I  ask  you 
to  do  it?  My  work,  I  feel,  lies  here,  and  it's  worth 
a  man's  life.  But  whether  you  will  share  it,  it  is  for 
you  to  decide.  If  you  feel  you  cannot,  believe  me,  I 
shall  not  blame  you,  but  shall  love  and  honour  you  as 
before.  But  though  it  break  my  heart  I  cannot  go 
back  from  what  I  see  to  be  my  work.  I  belong  to 
you,  but  first  I  belong  to  Him  who  is  both  your  Master 
and  mine." 

In  due  time  her  answer  came.  He  carried  her  letter 
out  to  a  favourite  haunt  of  his  in  a  sunny  coolie  where 
an  old  creek-bed  was  marked  by  straggling  willows, 
and  there,  throwing  himself  down  upon  the  sloping 
grass,  he  read  her  message. 

"  I  know,  dear,  how  much  that  last  sentence  of  yours 
cost  you,  and  my  answer  is  that  were  your  duty  less  to 
you,  you  would  be  less  to  me.  How  could  I  honour 
and  love  a  man  who,  for  the  sake  of  a  girl  or  for  any 
sake,  would  turn  back  from  his  work?  Besides,  you 
have  taught  me  too  well  to  love  your  glorious  West, 


126  THE    PROSPECTOR 

and  you  cannot  daunt  me  now  by  any  such  sombre 
picture  as  you  drew  for  me  in  your  last  letter.  No 
sir.  The  West  for  me !  And  you  should  be  ashamed 
— and  this  I  shall  make  you  properly  repent — 
ashamed  to  force  me  to  the  unmaidenly  course  of  in- 
sisting upon  going  out  to  you, '  rounding  you  up  into 
a  corral ' — that  is  the  correct  phrase,  is  it  not  ? — and 
noosing,  no,  roping  you  there." 

When  he  looked  up  from  the  letter  the  landscape 
was  blurred  for  a  time.  But  soon  he  wondered  at  the 
new  splendour  of  the  day,  the  sweetness  of  the  air,  the 
mellow  music  of  the  meadow-lark.  A  new  glory  was 
upon  sky  and  earth  and  a  new  rapture  in  his  heart. 

"Wonderful!"  he  exclaimed.  "Dear  little  soull 
She  doesn't  know,  and  yet,  even  if  she  did,  I  believe 
it  would  make  no  difference." 

Experience  proved  that  he  had  rightly  estimated 
her.  For  a  year  and  a  half  she  had  stood  by  her 
husband's  side,  making  sunshine  for  him  ^hat  no 
clouds  could  dim  nor  blizzards  blow  out.  It  was  this 
that  threw  into  her  husband's  tone  as  he  said,  "My 
wife,  Mr.  Macgregor,"  the  tenderness  and  pride.  It 
made  Shock's  heart  quiver,  for  there  came  to  him  the 
picture  of  a  tall  girl  with  wonderful  dark  grey  eyes 
that  looked  straight  into  his  while  she  said,  "  You 
know  I  will  not  forget."  It  was  this  that  made  him 
hold  the  little  woman's  hand  till  she  wondered  at  him, 
but  with  a  woman's  divining  she  read  his  story  in  the 
deep  blue  eyes,  alight  now  with  the  memory  of  love. 

"  That  light  is  not  for  me,"  she  said  to  herself,  and 


THE     OUTPOST  13? 

welcomed  him  with  a  welcome  of  one  who  had  been  so 
recently  and,  indeed,  was  still  a  lover. 

The  interval  between  supper  and  bed-time  was 
spent  in  eager  talk  over  Shock's  field.  A  rough  map, 
showing  trails,  streams,  sloughs,  coolies,  and  some  of 
the  larger  ranches  lay  before  them  on  the  table. 

"This  is  The  Fort,"  said  Mclntyre,  putting  his 
finger  upon  a  dot  on  the  left  side  of  the  map. 
"  Twenty-five  miles  west  and  south  is  Loon  Lake,  the 
centre  of  your  field,  where  it  is  best  that  you  should 
live,  if  you  can ;  and  then  further  away  up  toward  the 
Pass  they  tell  me  there  is  a  queer  kind  of  ungodly 
settlement — ranchers,  freighters,  whisky-runners,  cat- 
tle thieves,  miners,  almost  anything  you  can  name, 
You'll  have  to  do  some  exploration  work  there." 

"Prospecting,  eh?"  said  Shock. 

"Exactly.  Prospecting  is  the  word,"  said  Mc- 
lntyre. "  The  Fort  end  of  your  field  won't  be  bad  in 
one  way.  You'll  find  the  people  quite  civilised.  In- 
deed, The  Fort  is  quite  the  social  centre  for  the  whole 
district.  Afternoon  teas,  hunts,  tennis,  card-parties, 
and  dancing  parties  make  life  one  gay  whirl  for  them. 
Mind  you,  I'm  not  saying  a  word  against  them.  In 
this  country  anything  clean  in  the  way  of  sport 
ought  to  be  encouraged,  but  unfortunately  there  is 
a  broad,  bad  streak  running  through  that  crowd,  and 
what  with  poker,  gambling,  bad  whisky,  and  that  sort 
of  thing,  the  place  is  at  times  a  perfect  hell." 

"Whisky?  What  about  the  Police?  I  have  heard 
them  well  spoken  of,"  said  Shock. 

"And  rightly  so.     They  are  a  line  bodj  of  men,, 


128  THE    PROSPECTOR 

with  exceptions.  But  this  infernal  permit  system 
makes  it  almost  impossible  to  enforce  the  law,  and 
where  the  Inspector  is  a  soak,  you  can  easily  under- 
stand that  the  whole  business  of  law  enforcement 
is  a  farce.  Almost  all  the  Police,  however,  in  this 
country  are  straight  fellows.  There's  Sergeant  Crisp, 
now — there  is  not  money  enough  in  the  Territories 
to  buy  him.  Why,  he  was  offered  six  hundred  dollars 
not  long  ago  to  be  busy  at  the  other  end  of  the  town 
when  the  freighters  came  in  one  night.  But  not  he. 
He  was  on  duty,  with  the  result  that  some  half  dozen 
kegs  of  whisky  failed  to  reach  their  intended  des- 
tination. But  there's  a  bad  streak  in  the  crowd,  and 
the  mischief  of  it  is  that  the  Inspector  and  his  wife 
set  the  pace  for  all  the  young  fellows  of  the  ranches 
about.  And  when  whisky  gets  a-flowing  there  are 
things  done  that  it  is  a  shame  to  speak  of.  But  they 
won't  bother  you  much.  They  belong  mostly  to 
Father  Mike." 

"Father  Mike,  a  Roman  Catholic?" 

"  No,  Anglican.  A  very  decent  fellow.  Have  not 
»  seen  much  of  him.  His  people  doubtless  regard  me 
as  a  blooming  dissenter,  dontcherknow.  But  he 
is  no  such  snob.  He  goes  in  for  all  their  fun- 
hunts,  teas,  dances,  card-parties,  and  all  the  rest 
of  it." 

"  What,  gambling?  "  asked  Shock,  aghast. 

"  No,  no.  I  understand  he  rakes  them  fore  and 
aft  for  their  gambling  and  that  sort  of  thing.  But 
they  don't  mind  it  much.  They  swear  by  him,  for 
he  is  really  a  fine  fellow.  In  sickness  or  in  trouble 


THE     OUTPOST  129 

Father  Mike  is  on  the  spot.  But  as  to  influencing 
their  lives,  I  fear  Father  Mike  is  no  great  force." 

"Why  do  you  have  a  mission  there  at  all?"  en- 
quired Shock. 

"  Simply  because  the  Superintendent  considers  The 
Fort  a  strong  strategic  point,  and  there  are  a  lot  of 
young  fellows  and  a  few  families  there  who  are  not 
of  Father  Mike's  flock  and  who  could  never  be  per- 
suaded to  attend  his  church.  It  doesn't  take  much, 
you  know,  to  keep  a  man  from  going  to  church  in 
this  country,  so  the  Superintendent's  policy  is  to  re- 
move all  possible  excuses  and  barriers  and  to  make 
it  easy  for  men  to  give  themselves  a  chance.  Our 
principal  man  at  The  Fort  is  Macfarren,  a  kind  of 
lawyer,  land-agent,  registrar,  or  something  of  that 
sort.  Has  cattle  too,  on  a  ranch.  A  very  clever  fel- 
low, but  the  old  story — whisky.  Too  bad.  He's  a 
brother  of  Rev.  Dr.  Macfarren." 

"  What  ?    Dr.  Macfarren  of  Toronto  ?  " 

"Yes.  And  he  might  be  almost  anything  in  this 
country.  I'll  give  you  a  letter  to  him.  He  will  show 
you  about  and  give  you  all  information." 

"And  is  he  in  the  Church?"  Shock's  face  was  a 
study.  Mclntyre  laughed  long  and  loud. 

"Why,  my  dear  fellow,  we're  glad  to  get  hold  of 
any  kind  of  half -decent  chap  that  is  willing  to  help 
in  any  way.  We  use  him  as  usher,  manager,  choir- 
master, sexton.  In  short,  we  put  him  any  place  where 
he  will  stick." 

Shock  drew  a  long  breath.  The  situation  was  be- 
coming complicated  to  him. 


ISO  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  About  Loon  Lake,"  continued  Mclntyre,  "  I  can't 
tell  you  much.  By  all  odds  the  most  interesting  figure 
there  is  the  old  Prospector,  as  he  is  called.  You  have 
heard  about  him?  " 

Shock  bowed. 

"  No  one  knows  him,  though  he  has  been  there  for 
many  years.  His  daughter,  I  understand,  has  just 
come  out  from  England  to  him.  Then,  there's  Andy 
Hepburn,  who  runs  a  store,  a  shrewd,  canny  little  Scot. 
I  have  no  doubt  he  will  help  you.  But  you'll  know 
more  about  the  place  in  a  week  than  I  could  tell  you 
if  I  talked  all  night,  and  t'nat  I  must  not  do,  for  you 
must  be  tired." 

When  he  finished  Shock  sat  silent  with  his  eyes 
upon  the  map.  He  was  once  more  conscious  of  a 
kind  of  terror  of  these  unknown  places  and  people0 
How  could  he  get  at  them?  What  place  was  there 
for  him  and  his  mission  in  that  wild,  reckless  life  of 
theirs?  What  had  he  to  bring  them.  Only  a  Tale? 
In  the  face  of  that  vigorous,  strenuous  life  it  seemed 
at  that  moment  to  Shock  almost  ridiculous  in  its  in- 
adequacy. Against  him  and  his  Story  were  arraigned 
the  great  human  passions — greed  of  gold,  lust  of 
pleasure  in  its  most  sensuous  forms,  and  that  wild 
spirit  of  independence  of  all  restraint  by  law  of  God 
or  man.  He  was  still  looking  at  the  map  when  Mr. 
Mclntyre  said: 

"We  will  take  the  books,  as  they  say  in  my 
country." 

"  Ay,  and  in  mine,"  said  Shock,  coming  out  ot'  hit 
dream  with  a  start. 


THE     OUTPOST  131 

Mrs.  Mclntyre  laid  the  Bible  on  the  table.  Her 
husband  opened  the  Book  and  read  that  great  Psalm 
of  the  wilderness,  "  Lord,  thou  hast  been  our  dwelling 
place,"  and  so  on  to  the  last  cry  of  frail  and  fading 
humanity  after  the  enduring  arid  imperishable,  "  Let 
the  beauty  of  the  Lord  our  God  be  upon  us ;  and  es- 
tablish thou  the  work  of  our  hands  upon  us :  yea,  the 
work  of  our  hands  establish  thou  it." 

As  he  listened  to  the  vivid  words  that  carried  with 
them  the  very  scent  and  silence  of  the  hungry  wilder- 
ness, there  fell  upon  Shock's  ears  the  long  howl  and 
staccato  bark  of  the  prairie  wolf.  That  lonely  voice 
of  the  wild  West  round  them  struck  Shock's  heart 
with  a  chill  of  fear,  but  following  hard  upon  the 
fear  came  the  memory  of  the  abiding  dwelling  place 
for  all  desert  pilgrims,  and  in  place  of  his  terror  a 
great  quietness  fell  upon  his  spirit.  The  gaunt 
spectre  of  the  hungry  wilderness  vanished  before  the 
kindly  presence  of  a  great  Companionship  that  made 
even  the  unknown  West  seem  safe  and  familiar  as 
one's  own  home.  The  quick  change  of  feeling  filled 
Shock's  heart  to  overflowing,  so  that  when  Mr.  Mc- 
lntyre, closing  the  Book,  said,  "  You  will  lead  us  in 
prayer,  Mr.  Macgregor,"  Shock  could  only  shake  his 
head  in  voiceless  refusal. 

"You  go  on,  David,"  said  his  wife,  who  had  been 
watching  Shock's  face. 

As  Shock  lay  that  night  upon  his  bed  of  buffalo 
skins  in  the  corner,  listening  to  the  weird  sounds  of 
the  night  without,  he  knew  that  for  the  present  at 
least  that  haunting  terror  of  the  unknown  and  that 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

disturbing  sense  of  his  own  insufficiency  would  not 
trouble  him.  That  dwelling  place,  quiet  and  secure, 
of  the  Mclntyre's  home  in  the  midst  of  the  wide  waste 
about  was  to  him  for  many  a  day  a  symbol  of  that 
other  safe  dwelling  place  for  all  pilgrims  through 
earth's  wilderness. 

"  Poor  chap,"  said  Mclntyre  to  his  wife  when  they 
had  retired  for  the  night,  "  I'm  afraid  he'll  find  it 
hard  work,  especially  at  The  Fort.  He  is  rather  in 
the  rough,  you  know." 

"  He  has  beautiful  honest  eyes,"  said  his  wife,  "  and 
I  like  him." 

"Do  you?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  she  replied  emphatically. 

"  Then,"  said  her  husband,  "  in  spite  of  all  appear- 
ances he's  all  right." 


VIII 
THE    OLD    PROSPECTOR 

ELAKE  lay  in  the  afternoon  sunlight, 
himmering  in  its  glory  of  prismatic  colours, 
n  one  side  reflecting  the  rocks  and  the 
pines  that  lined  the  shore  and  the  great 
peaks  that  stood  further  back,  and  the  other  lapping 
the  grasses  and  reeds  that  edged  its  waters  and  joined 
it  to  the  prairie.  A  gentle  breeze  now  and  then 
breathed  across  the  lake,  breaking  into  myriad  frag- 
ments the  glassy  surface  that  lay  like  sheets  of  pol- 
ished multi-coloured  metal  of  gold  and  bronze  and 
silver,  purple  and  green  and  blue. 

A  young  girl  of  about  sixteen  years,  riding  a 
cayuse  along  the  lake  shore,  suddenly  reined  in  her 
pony  and  sat  gazing  upon  the  scene. 

"After  all,"  she  said  aloud,  "it  is  a  lovely  spot, 
and  if  only  father  could  have  stayed,  I  wouldn't 
mind." 

Her  tone  was  one  of  discontent.  Her  face  was  not 
beautiful,  and  its  plainness  was  increased  by  a  kind 
of  sullen  gloom  that  had  become  its  habit.  After 
gazing  across  the  lake  for  some  minutes  she  turned 
her  horse  and  cantered  toward  a  little  cluster  of  build- 
ings of  all  sizes  and  shapes  that  huddled  about  the 


134  THE    PROSPECTOR 

end  of  the  lake  and  constituted  Loon  Lake  village. 
As  she  drew  near  the  largest  of  the  houses,  which  was 
dignified  by  the  name  of  Loon  Lake  Stopping  Place, 
she  came  upon  a  group  of  children  gathered  about  a 
little  cripple  of  about  seven  or  eight  years  of  age,  but 
so  puny  and  poorly  developed  that  he  appeared  much 
younger.  The  little  lad  was  sobbing  bitterly,  shriek- 
ing oaths  and  striking  savagely  with  his  crutch  at  the 
children  that  hemmed  him  in.  The  girl  sprang  off 
her  pony. 

"Oh,  shame  on  you!"  she  exclaimed,  rushing  at 
them.  "  You  bad  children,  to  tease  poor  Patsy  so. 
Be  off  with  you.  Come,  Patsy,  never  mind  them.  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  a  story." 

"  He  was  throwin'  stones  at  us,  so  he  was,"  said  his 
brother,  a  sturdy  little  red-headed  lad  of  six.  "And 
he  hit  Batcheese  right  on  the  leg,  too." 

"  He  pu — pu — pulled  down  my  mountain  right  to 
the  ground,"  sobbed  Patsy,  lifting  a  pale,  tear-stained 
face  distorted  with  passion. 

"Never  mind,  Patsy,"  she  said  soothingly,  "I'll 
help  -you  to  build  it  up  again." 

"And  they  all  laughed  at  me,"  continued  Patsy, 
still  sobbing  stormily.  "  And  I'll  knock  their  blank, 
blank  heads  off,  so  I  will ! "  And  Patsy  lifted  his 
crutch  and  shook  it  at  them  in  impotent  wrath. 

"Hush,  hush,  Patsy!  you  must  not  say  those 
awful  words,"  said  the  girl,  laying  her  hand  ove* 
his  mouth  and  lifting  him  onto  her  knee. 

"Yes,  I  will.  And  I  just  wish  God  would  sen<3 
them  to  hell-fire!" 


THE    OLD    PROSPECTOR  135 

"  Oh,  Patsy,  hush !  "  said  the  girl.  "  That's  awful. 
Never,  never  say  such  a  thing  again." 

"  I  will ! "  cried  Patsy,  "  and  I'll  ask  God  to-night, 
and  mother  said  He  would  if  they  didn't  leave  me 
alone." 

"  But,  Patsy,  you  must  not  say  nor  think  those 
awful  things.  Come  now  and  I'll  tell  you  a  story." 

"  I  don't  want  a  story,"  he  sobbed.     "  Sing." 

"Oh,  I'll  tell  you  a  story,  Patsy.  I'll  come  into 
the  house  to-night  and  sing  for  you." 

"  No,  sing,"  said  the  little  lad  imperiously,  and  so 
the  girl  began  to  sing  the  thrilling  love  story  of  The 
Frog  and  The  Mouse,  till  not  only  was  Patsy's  pale 
face  wreathed  in  smiles,  but  the  other  children  were 
drawn  in  an  enchanted  circle  about  the  singer.  So 
entranced  were  the  children  and  so  interested  the 
singer  that  they  failed  to  notice  the  door  of  the  Stop- 
ping Place  open.  A  slovenly  woman  showed  a  hard 
face  and  dishevelled  hair  for  a  moment  at  the  door, 
and  then  stole  quietly  away.  In  a  few  moments  she 
returned,  bringing  her  husband,  a  huge  man  with  a 
shaggy,  black  head  and  repulsive  face. 

"  Jist  be  afther  lookin'  at  that  now,  will  ye,  Gar- 
roll!"  she  said. 

As  the  man  looked  his  face  changed  as  the  sun 
breaks  through  a  storm-cloud. 

"  Did  ye  iver  see  the  loikes  av  that  ?  "  she  said  in 
a  low  voice.  "  She'd  draw  the  badgers  out  av  their 
holes  with  thim  songs  av  hers.  And  thim  little  divils 
have  been  all  the  mornin'  a-fightin'  and  a-scrappin* 
loike  Kilkenny  cats." 


136  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"An'  look  at  Patsy,"  said  her  husband,  with  wonder 
and  pity  in  his  eyes. 

"  Yis,  ye  may  say  that,  for  it's  the  cantankerous 
little  curmudgeon  he  is,  poor  little  manny." 

"  Cantankerous ! "  echoed  her  husband.  "  It's  that 
blank  pain  av  his." 

"Whist  now,  Tim.  There's  Thim  that'll  be 
hearin'  ye,  an'  it  '11  be  the  worse  f 'r  him  an'  f 'r  you, 
beloike." 

"  Divil  a  fear  have  Oi  av  Thim,"  said  her  sceptical 
husband  scornfully. 

"  Aw,  now,  do  be  quiet,  now,"  said  his  wife,  cross- 
ing herself.  "  Sure,  prayin'  is  jist  as  aisy  as  cursin', 
and  no  harrum  done,  at  all."  She  shut  the  door. 

"Aw,  it's  the  beautiful  singer  she  is,"  as  the  girl 
struck  up  a  new  song.  "  Listen  to  that  now." 

Full,  clear,  soft,  like  the  warbling  of  the  thrush  at 
evening,  came  the  voice  through  the  closed  door. 
The  man  and  his  wife  stood  listening  with  a  rapt  look 
on  their  faces. 

"  Phat  in  Hivin's  name  is  she  singin',  at  all  ?  "  said 
Mrs.  Carroll. 

"  Whisht !  "  said  her  husband,  holding  up  his  hand. 
"  It's  like  a  wild  burrd,"  he  added,  after  listening  a 
few  moments. 

"The  pore  thing.  An'  it's  loike  a  wild  burrd  she 
is,"  said  Mrs.  Carroll  pityingly.  "Left  alone  so 
soon  afther  comin'  to  this  sthrange  counthry.  It's 
a  useless  man  altogether,  is  that  ould  Prospector." 

Carroll's  face  darkened. 

66  Useless !  "  he  exclaimed  wrathfully,  "  he's  a  blank 


THE    OLD    PROSPECTOR      137 

ould  fool,  crazy  as  a  jack  rabbit!  An'  Oi'm  another 
blank  fool  to  put  any  money  into  'im." 

"Did  ye  put  much  in,  Tim?"  ventured  Mrs.  Car- 
roll. 

"  Too  much  to  be  thrown  away,  anyhow." 

"  Thin,  why  does  ye  do  it,  Tim?  " 

"  Blanked  if  Oi  know.  It's  the  smooth,  slippin* 
tongue  av  'im.  He'd  talk  the  tale  aff  a  monkey,  so 
he  would." 

At  this  moment  a  loud  cry,  followed  by  a  stream  of 
oaths  in  a  shrill  childish  voice,  pierced  through  the 
singing. 

"Phat's  that  in  all  the  worrld?"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Carroll.  "  Hivin  preserve  us,  it's  little  Patsy.  Tim, 
ye'll  'av  to  be  spakin'  to  that  child  for  the  swearin'. 
Listen  to  the  oaths  av  5im.  The  Lord  forgive  'im ! " 

Tim  strode  to  the  'door,  followed  by  his  wife. 

"  Phat  the  blank,  blank  is  this  yellin'  about?  Phat 
d'ye  mane  swearin'  loike  that,  Patsy?  Oi'll  knock 
yer  blank  little  head  aff  if  Oi  catch  ye  swearin'  agin." 

"  I  don't  care,"  stormed  little  Patsy,  quite  unafraid 
of  his  father  when  the  other  children  fled.  "  It's  that 
blank,  blank  Batcheese  an'  Tim  there.  They  keep 
teasin'  me  an'  Mayan  all  the  time." 

"  Let  me  catch  yez,  ye  little  divils ! "  shouted  Car- 
roll after  the  children,  who  had  got  off  to  a  safe  dis- 
tance. "  Go  on,  Marion,  an'  sing  phat  ye  loike.  It's 
loike  a  burrd  ye  are,  an'  Oi  loikes  t'  hear  ye.  An' 
Patsy,  too,  eh?" 

He  took  the  little  cripple  up  in  his  arms  very 
gently  and  held  him  for  some  minutes. 


138  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"You're  a  big  man,  dad,  aint  ye?"  said  Patsy, 
putting  his  puny  arm  round  his  father's  hairy  neck. 
"  An'  ye  can  lick  the  hull  town,  can't  ye?  " 

"Who  wuz  tellin'  ye  that,  Patsy?"  asked  his 
father,  with  a  smile. 

"I  heard  ye  meself  last  week  when  the  big  row 
was  on." 

"Ye  did,  be  dad!  Thin  Oi'm  thinkin'  ye  do  be 
hearin'  too  much." 

"But  ye  can,  dad,  can't  ye?"  persisted  the  boy. 

"  Well,  Oi'll  stick  to  phat  Oi  said,  anyway,  Patsy 
boy,"  replied  his  father. 

"An*  I'll  be  a  big  man  like  you,  dad,  some  day, 
an'  lick  the  hull  town,  won't  I?  "  asked  Patsy  eagerly. 

His  father  shuddered  and  held  him  close  to  his 
breast. 

"  I  will,  dad,  won't  I?  "  persisted  the  lad,  the  little 
face  turned  anxiously  toward  his  father. 

"  Whisht  now,  laddie.  Sure  an'  ye'll  be  the  clivir 
man  some  day,"  said  the  big  man  huskily,  while  his 
wife  turned  her  face  toward  the  door. 

"  But  they  said  I'd  niver  lick  anybody,"  persisted 
Patsy.  "  An'  that's  a  blank  lie,  isn't  it,  dad?  " 

The  man's  face  grew  black  with  wrath.  He  poured 
out  fierce  oaths. 

"Let  me  catch  thim.  Oi'll  break  their  backs,  the 
blank,  blank  little  cowards !  Niver  ye  heed  thim.  Ye'll 
be  a  betther  man  thin  any  av  thim,  Patsy  avick,  an* 
that  ye  will.  An'  they'll  all  be  standin'  bare-headed 
afore  ye  some  day.  But  Patsy,  darlin',  Oi  want  ye 
to  give  up  the  swearin'  and  listen  to  Marion  yonder, 


THE     OLD     PROSPECTOR      189 

who'll  be  afther  tellin'  ye  good  things  an*  cliver 
things." 

"But,  dad,"  persisted  the  little  boy,  "won't  I 
be " 

"Hush  now,  Patsy,"  said  his  father  hurriedly. 
"  Don't  ye  want  to  go  on  the  pony  with  Marion  ? 
Come  on  now,  an'  Oi'll  put  ye  up." 

"Oh,  goody,  goody!"  shouted  little  Patsy,  his 
pale,  beautiful  face  aglow  with  delight. 

"  Poor  little  manny !  "  groaned  Carroll  to  his  wife, 
looking  after  the  pair  as  they  rode  off  up  the  trail. 
"  It's  not  many  ye'll  be  after  lickin',  except  with  yer 
tongue." 

"  But,  begorra,"  said  his  wife,  "  that's  the  lickin' 
that  hurts,  afther  all.  An'  it's  harrd  tellin'  what'U 
be  comin'  till  the  lad." 

Her  husband  turned  without  more  words  and  went 
into  the  house.  Meantime  Marion  and  Patsy  were 
enjoying  their  canter. 

"  Take  me  up  to  the  Jumping  Rock,"  said  the  boy, 
and  they  took  the  trail  that  wound  up  the  west  side  of 
the  lake. 

"  There  now,  Patsy,"  said  Marion,  when  they  had 
arrived  at  a  smooth  shelf  of  rock  that  rose  sheer  out 
of  the  blue  water  of  the  lake,  "  I'll  put  you  by  the  big 
spruce  there,  and  you  can  see  all  over  the  lake  and 
everywhere." 

She  slipped  off  the  pony,  carefully  lifted  the  boy 
down  and  set  him  leaning  against  a  big  spruce  pine 
that  grew  seemingly  up  out  of  the  bare  rock  and 
leaned  far  out  over  the  water.  This  was  the  swim- 


140  THE    PROSPECTOR 

ming  place  for  the  boys  and  men  of  the  village ;  and 
an  ideal  place  it  was,  for  off  the  rock  or  out  of  the 
overhanging  limbs  the  swimmers  could  dive  without 
fear  into  the  clear,  deep  water  below. 

"  There  now,  Patsy,"  said  the  girl  after  she  had 
picketed  her  pony,  "  shall  I  tell  you  a  story  ?  " 

"  No.     Sing,  Mayan,  I  like  you  to  sing." 

But  just  as  the  girl  was  about  to  begin  he  cried, 
" Who's  that  comin',  Mayan?''  pointing  down  the 
trail. 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  lad  had  descried  a  horseman 
far  away  where  the  long  slope  rose  to  the  horizen. 

" I  don't  know,"  answered  the  girl.  "Who  is  it, 
Patsy?  A  cowboy?" 

"  No,"  said  Patsy,  after  waiting  for  a  few  minutes, 
«  I  think  it's  Perault." 

"  No,  Patsy,  that  can't  be.  You  know  Perault 
went  out  with  father  last  week." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  insisted  Patsy.  "That's  father's 
pony.  That's  Rat-tail,  I  know." 

The  girl  stood  up  and  gazed  anxiously  at  the  ap- 
proaching rider. 

"  Surely  it  can't  be  Perault,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"  What  can  have  happened?  " 

She  unhitched  her  horse,  rolled  up  her  picket  rope, 
and  stood  waiting  with  disturbed  face.  As  the  rider 
drew  near  she  called,  "Perault!  Ho,  Perault!" 

"  Hola !  "  exclaimed  Perault,  a  wizened,  tough-look- 
ing little  Frenchman,  pulling  up  his  pony  with  a  jerk, 
"Bo  jou,  Mam'selle,"  he  added,  taking  off  his  hat. 

Perault's  manner  is  reassuring,  indeed  quite  gay* 


THE    OLD    PROSPECTOR       141 

"What  is  it,  Perault?  Why  are  you  come  back? 
Where  is  father?"  The  girl's  lips  were  white. 

"  Coming,"  said  Perault  nonchalantly,  pointing  up 
the  trail.  "We  strak  de  bad  luck,  Mam'selle,  so  we 
start  heem  again." 

"Tell  me,  Perault,"  said  the  girl,  turning  her 
piercing  black  eyes  on  his  face,  "tell  me  truly,  is 
father  hurt?" 

"  Oui,  for  sure,"  said  Perault  with  an  exaggera- 
tion of  carelessness  which  did  not  escape  the  keen 
eyes  fastened  on  his  face,  "  dat  ole  boss,  you  know, 
he  blam-fool.  Hees  'fraid  noting.  Hees  try  for 
sweem  de  Black  Dog  on  de  crossing  below.  De  Black 
Dog  hees  full  over  hees  bank,  an'  boil,  boil,  lak  one 
kettle.  De  ole  boss  he  say  *  Perault,  we  mak  de  pas- 
sage, eh?'  6No,'  I  say,  'we  try  noder  crossing.' 
*  How  far  ? '  he  say.  *  Two — tree  mile.'  *  Guess  try 
heem  here,'  he  say,  an'  no  matter  how  I  say  heem  be 
blam-fool  for  try,  dat  ole  boss  hees  laf  small,  leele 
laf  an'  mak  de  start.  Well,  dat  pony  hees  going  nice 
an'  slow  troo  de  water  over  de  bank,  but  wen  he  struk 
dat  fas  water,  poof !  wheez !  dat  pony  hees  upset  hes- 
sef,  by  gar!  Hees  trow  hees  feet  out  on  de  water. 
Bymbe  hees  come  all  right  for  a  meenit.  Den  dat 
fool  pony  hees  miss  de  crossing.  Hees  go  dreef  down 
de  stream  where  de  high  bank  hees  imposseeb.  Mon 
Dieu!  Das  mak  me  scare.  I  do'no  what  I  do.  I 
stan'  an'  yell  lak  one  beeg  fool  me.  Up  come  beeg 
feller  on  buckboard  on  noder  side.  Beeg  blam-fool 
jus'  lak  boss.  Not  'fraid  noting.  Hees  trow  rope 
cross  saddle.  De  ole  boss  hees  win'  heem  roun'  de 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

horn.  Poof!  das  upset  dat  pony  once  more.  Hees 
trow  hees  feet  up  on  water,  catch  ole  boss  on  head  an' 
arm,  knock  heem  right  off  to  blazes.  *  Good  bye,'  I 
say, '  I  not  see  heem  more.'  Beeg  feller  hees  loose  dat 
rope,  ron  down  on  de  bank  hitching  rope  on  willow  tree 
an'  roun'  hees  own  shoulder  an'  jump  on  reever  way 
down  on  bend  an'  wait  for  ole  boss.  For  me?  I  mak 
dis  pony  cross  ver'  queek.  Not  know  how,  an'  pass  on 
de  noder  side.  I  see  beeg  feller,  hees  hoi'  de  ole  boss 
on  hees  coat  collar  wit  hees  teef,  by  gar!  an'  sweem 
lak  ottar.  Sap-r-r-e !  Not  long  before  I  pull  on  dat 
rope  an'  get  bot  on  shore.  Beeg  feller  hees  all  right. 
De  ole  boss  hees  lie  white,  white  and  still.  I  cry  on 
my  eye  bad.  *  Go  get  someting  for  dreenk,'  say  beeg 
feller,  'queek.'  Sac-r-re!  beeg  fool  messef!  Bah! 
Good  for  noting!  I  fin'  brandy,  an'  leele  tarn,  tree- 
four  minute,  de  ole  boss  hees  sit  up  all  right.  Le 
Bon  Dieu  hees  do  good  turn  dat  time,  for  sure.  Send 
beeg  feller  along  all  right." 

The  girl  stood  listening  to  Perault's  dramatic  tale, 
her  face  growing  white. 

"  Is  father  not  hurt  at  all,  then  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Non.  Hees  tough  ole  man,  dat  boss,"  said  Pe- 
rault.  Then  he  added  lightly,  "  Oh !  hees  broke  some 
small  bone — what  you  call? — on  de  collar,  dere.  Dat 
noting  'tall." 

"  Oh,  Perault ! "  exclaimed  the  girl.  "  You're  not 
telling  me  the  truth.  You're  keeping  back  something. 
My  father  is  hurt." 

"  Non,  for  sure,"  said  Perault,  putting  his  hand 
over  his  heart.  "Hees  broke  dat  bone  on  de  collar. 


THE    OLD    PROSPECTOR      143 

Dat  noting  'tall.  He  not  ride  ver'  well,  so  hees  come 
on  beeg  feller's  blackboard.  Dat's  fine  beeg  feller! 
Mon  Dieu!  hees  not  'fraid  noting!  Beeg  blam-fool 
jus'  lak  boss."  No  higher  commendation  was  possible 
from  Perault. 

"  But  why  is  father  coming  back  then  ? "  asked 
the  girl  anxiously. 

"  Mais  oui !  Bah !  Dat  leele  fool  pony  got  his- 
self  dron  on  de  Black  Dog,  an'  all  hees  stuff,  so  de 
ole  boss  he  mus'  come  back  for  more  pony  an'  more 
stuff." 

"  When  will  they  be  here,  Perault  ?  "  asked  the  girl 
quietly. 

"Ver'  soon.  One — two  hour.  But,"  said  Perault 
with  some  hesitation,  "  de  ole  boss  better  go  on  bed 
leele  spell,  mebbe." 

Then  the  girl  knew  that  Perault  had  not  told  her 
the  worst,  turning  impatiently  frwn  him,  she  lifted 
little  Patsy  on  to  the  saddle  and,  disdaining  Perault's 
offered  help,  sprang  on  herself  and  set  off  toward  the 
village  about  a  mile  away  at  full  gallojh 

"  Das  mighty  smart  girl,"  said  Perault ,  scratching 
his  head  as  he  set  off  after  her  as  fast  as  his  jaded 
pony  could  follow.  "Can't  mak  fool  on  her." 

Half  way  to  the  village  stood  the  old  Prospector's 
house,  almost  hidden  in  a  bluff  of  poplar  and  spruce. 
A  little  further  on  was  Perault's  shack.  At  he* 
father's  door  the  girl  waited. 

"  Perault,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  left  the  key  at  your 
house.  Will  you  get  it  for  me  while  I  take  Patsy 
home?" 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

"Bon,"  said  Perault  eagerly.  "I  get  heem  an' 
mak  fire." 

"  Thank  you,  Perault,"  she  replied  kindly.  "  I'll 
be  right  back." 

But  it  took  some  time  to  get  Patsy  persuaded  to 
allow  her  to  depart,  and  by  the  time  she  had  returned 
she  found  Perault  had  the  fire  lit  and  Josie,  his  bright- 
eyed,  pretty,  little  wife,  busy  airing  the  bed-clothes 
and  flitting  about  seeking  opportunities  to  show  her 
sympathy. 

"Ma  pauvre  enfant!"  she  exclaimed,  running  to 
Marion  as  she  entered  and  putting  her  arms  about 
her. 

"Josie,"  warned  Perault  gruffly,  "shut  up  you. 
You  go  for  mak  fool  of  yousef ." 

But  Josie  paid  no  attention  to  her  husband  and 
continued  petting  the  girl. 

"Josie,"  cried  Marion,  fixing  her  eyes  upon  the 
Frenchwoman's  kindly  face,  "tell  me,  is  my  father 
badly  hurt?  Perault  would  not  tell  me  the  truth." 

"  Non,  ma  petite,  dat  hur's  not  so  ver'  bad,  but  de 
cole  water — das  bad  ting  for  fader,  sure." 

The  cloud  of  gloom  on  the  girl's  face  deepened. 
She  turned  away  toward  the  door  and  saying,  "  I'll 
go  and  get  some  crocuses,"  she  mounted  her  pony  and 
rode  off  toward  the  Jumping  Rock. 

Within  half  an  hour  the  girl  came  galloping  back. 

"Josie,"  she  cried  excitedly,  springing  off  her 
pony,  "  they're  coming.  I  saw  them  up  the  trail." 

She  tossed  her  flowers  on  the  table  and  hurried  to 
arrange  them  in  basins,  cups,  old  tin  cans,  and  all 


THE    OLD    PROSPECTOR      145 

available  vessels,  till  the  whole  house  seemed  to  be 
running  over  with  those  first  and  most  exquisite 
prairie  spring-flowers.  And  for  many  following  days 
the  spring-flowers  filled  the  house  with  their  own  hope 
and  cheer,  when  hope  and  cheer  were  both  sorely 
needed. 


IX 

TIM    CARROLL 

THERE  stood  at  the  door  Perault,  Josie, 
and  Marion,  waiting  for  Shock  and  the  Old 
Prospector  to  drive  up.  The  contrast  be- 
tween the  two  men  in  the  blackboard  was 
striking.  The  one,  a  young  man  with  muscular 
frame,  a  strong,  fresh  face  innocent  of  worldly  wis- 
dom and  marked  by  the  frankness  of  an  unspoiled 
faith  in  men  and  things ;  the  other,  an  old  man,  tall, 
slight,  with  a  face  worn  and  weary,  delicately  fea- 
tured and  kindly  enough,  but  with  a  mask  of  inscrut- 
able reserve  tinged  with  that  distrust  of  men  and 
things  that  comes  of  a  bitter  experience  of  the  world's 
falsities.  For  fifty  years  Walter  Mowbray  had 
looked  out  of  the  piercing  black  eyes  that  gleamed 
like  coals  of  fire  through  his  pallid  face  upon  a  world 
that  had  continuously  allured  and  mocked  him.  The 
piercing  eyes  were  those  of  an  enthusiast,  not  to  say 
fanatic.  The  fire  in  them  still  burned  deep  and 
bright.  The  indomitable  spirit,  refusing  to  accept 
defeat,  still  lived  and  hoped  with  a  persistence  at  once 
extraordinary  and  pathetic. 

A  gleam  of  light  shot  across  his  pale  impassive  face 
as  his  eyes  fell  upon  his  daughter  who,  in  the  presence 
of  a  stranger,  shrank  back  behind  Josie.  He  beck- 
oned her  to  him. 

146 


TIM    CARROLL  147 

"  Come,  my  daughter,"  he  said  in  a  clear,  musical 
voice. 

Then  she  forgot  her  shyness  and  threw  herself  at 
him. 

"  Oh,  father ! "  she  cried  in  a  low,  smothered  voice, 
her  whole  frame  shaking  as  she  clung  to  him. 

For  a  single  instant  the  old  man  held  her  to  him, 
his  pale  face  once  more  illumined  by  that  momentary 
gleam,  then  loosening  her  arms  from  his  neck,  he  said 
in  calm  tones,  in  which  mingled  surprise,  raillery, 
almost  rebuke,  "Why,  my  child,  this  is  indeed  an 
extraordinary  welcome  home." 

At  the  tone  the  girl  shrank  back,  and  with  mar- 
vellous self-control  regained  her  ordinary  quiet 
manner. 

"You  are  hurt,  father,"  she  said  so  quietly  that 
her  father  glanced  with  quick  surprise  at  her.  He 
hardly  knew  as  yet  this  daughter  of  his,  who  had  come 
to  him  only  two  months  ago,  and  whom  for  fifteen 
years  he  had  not  seen. 

"A  mere  touch,"  he  answered  carelessly.  "A 
broken  collar-bone,  inconvenient,  but  neither  painful 
nor  dangerous,  and  an  additional  touch  of  rheu- 
matism, which,  though  extremely  annoying,  will  prove 
only  temporary.  After  a  few  days  of  your  nurs- 
ing we  shall  be  able  to  resume  our  march,  eh, 
Perault?' 

"  Oui !  bon !  dat  so,"  said  Perault,  grinning  his 
eager  acquiescence.  "  De  ole  boss  he  stop  for  noting." 

"  But  now  we  shall  get  with  all  speed  between  the 
blankets,  my  girl.  Hot  blankets,  Josie,  eh?" 


148  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Oui,  certainment,  tout  suite ! "  cried  Josie,  darting 
into  the  house. 

The  old  man  began  carefully  to  raise  himself  off 
the  seat  of  the  buckboard. 

"  Ha ! "  catching  his  breath.  "  Rather  sharp,  that, 
Mr.  Macgregor.  Oh!  I  forgot.  Pardon  me,"  he 
continued,  with  fine,  old-time  courtesy.  "  Permit  me 
to  introduce  you  to  my  daughter.  Marion,  this  is 
Mr.  Macgregor,  but  for  whose  timely  and  heroic 
assistance  I  might  even  now  be  tumbling  about  at  the 
fitful  fancy  of  the  Black  Dog.  We  both  have  cause 
to  be  grateful  to  him." 

With  a  surprised  cry  the  girl  who,  during  her 
father's  words,  had  been  looking  at  him  with  a  white 
face  and  staring  eyes,  sprang  towards  Shock,  who 
was  standing  at  the  pony's  head,  seized  his  hand  be- 
tween hers,  kissed  it  passionately,  flung  it  away,  and 
returned  hurriedly  to  her  father's  side. 

"  It  was  nothing  at  all,"  said  Shock,  when  he  had 
recovered  from  his  confusion.  "  Any  one  would  have 
done  it,  and  besides " 

"  Not  many  men  would  have  had  the  strength  to 
do  it,"  interrupted  the  Old  Prospector,  "  and  few  men 
the  nerve  to  try.  We  will  not  forget  it,  sir,  I  trust." 

"  Besides,"  continued  Shock,  addressing  the  girl, 
"  I  owe  something  to  your  father,  for  I  was  helplessly 
lost  when  he  found  me." 

With  a  wave  of  his  hand  the  old  man  brushed  aside 
Shock's  statement  as  of  no  importance. 

"  We  shall  hope  for  opportunity  to  show  our  grati- 
tude, Mr.  Macgregor,"  he  said,  his  clear  voice  taking 


TIM    CARROLL  149 

a  deeper  tone  than  usual.  "Now,"  he  continued 
briskly,  "let  us  proceed  with  this  somewhat  serious 
business  of  getting  into  blankets.  Just  lift  my  feet 
round,  my  daughter.  Ah!  The  long  ride  has 
stiffened  the  joints.  Oh!  One  moment,  my  dear." 
The  old  man's  face  was  wet  and  ghastly  pale,  and  his 
breath  came  in  quick  gasps.  "  A  difficult  operation, 
Mr.  Macgregor,"  he  said  apologetically,  "  but  we  shall 
accomplish  it  in  time.  Wait,  my  dear,  I  fancy  I 
shall  do  better  without  your  assistance.  At  least,  I 
shall  be  relieved  of  uncertainty  as  to  responsibility 
for  my  pains.  An  important  consideration,  Mr. 
Macgregor.  Uncertainty  adds  much  to  the  sum  of 
human  suffering.  Now,  if  I  can  swing  my  legs 
about.  Ah-h-h!  Most  humiliating  experience,  Mr. 
Macgregor,  the  arriving  at  the  limit  of  one's  strength. 
But  one  not  uncommon  in  life,  and  finally  inevitable," 
continued  the  old  philosopher,  only  the  ghastly  hue 
of  his  mask-like  face  giving  token  of  the  agony  he  was 
enduring. 

Then  Shock  came  to  him. 

"Let  me  carry  you,"  he  said.  "It  will  give  you 
less  pain,  I  am  sure." 

"  Well,  it  can  hardly  give  more." 

"Put  your  arms  about  my  neck.  There.  Now 
don't  try  to  help  yourself." 

"  Most  sound  advice.  I  surrender,"  said  the  old 
man,  his  philosophic  tone  in  striking  contrast  to  his 
ghastly  face.  "  But  one  most  difficult  to  accept." 

Gently,  easily,  as  if  he  had  been  a  child,  Shock 
lifted  him  from  the  buckboard,  carried  him  into  the 


150  THE    PROSPECTOR 

house  and  laid  him  upon  his  bed.  The  old  man  was 
faint  with  his  pain. 

"  Thank  you,  sir — that  was  distinctly  easier.  You 
are — a  mighty  man.  Perault !  I  think — I " 

His  voice  faded  away  into  silence  and  his  head  fell 
back.  The  girl  sprang  forward  with  a  cry  of  fear, 
but  Shock  was  before  her. 

"  The  brandy,  Perault !  Quick ! "  he  said.  "  Don't 
fear,  Miss  Mowbray,  he  will  soon  be  all  right." 

The  girl  glanced  into  Shock's  face  and  at  once 
grew  calm  again.  Soon,  under  the  stimulus  of  the 
brandy,  the  old  man  revived. 

"  Ah ! "  he  said,  drawing  a  long  breath  and  looking 
with  a  faint  apologetic  smile  at  the  anxious  faces 
ribout,  "  pardon  my  alarming  you.  I  am  getting  old. 
The  long  drive  and  the  somewhat  severe  pain  weakened 
me,  I  fear." 

"  Indeed,  you  have  no  need  to  apologise.  It  is 
more  than  I  could  have  stood,"  said  Shock  in  genuine 
admiration. 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  old  man.  "Now  we  shall 
get  into  blankets.  I  have  the  greatest  faith  in 
blankets,  sir;  the  greatest  faith.  I  have  rolled  my- 
self in  wet  blankets  in  mid-winter  when  suffering  from 
a  severe  cold,  and  have  come  forth  perfectly  recovered. 
You  remember  the  Elk  Valley,  Perault?  " 

"  Oui,  for  sure.  I  say  dot  tarn  ole  boss  blam-f ooL 
Hees  cough !  cough !  ver'  bad.  Nex'  mornin',  by  gar ! 
he's  all  right." 

"  And  will  be  again  soon,  Perault,  my  boy,  by  the 
help  of  these  same  blankets,"  said  the  old  man  con- 


TIM    CARROLL  151 

fidently.  "  But  how  to  negotiate  the  business  is  the 
question  now." 

"Let  me  try,  sir.  I  have  had  some  little  expe- 
rience in  helping  men  with  broken  bones  and  the  like," 
said  Shock. 

"You're  at  least  entitled  to  confidence,  Mr.  Mac- 
gregor,"  replied  the  Old  Prospector.  "Faith  is  the 
reflection  of  experience.  I  resign  myself  into  your 
hands." 

In  half  an  hour,  with  Perault's  assistance,  Shock 
had  the  old  man  between  heated  blankets,  exhausted 
with  pain,  but  resting  comfortably. 

"  Mr.  Macgregor,"  said  the  old  man,  taking  Shock 
by  the  hand,  "  I  have  found  that  life  sooner  or  later 
brings  opportunity  to  discharge  every  obligation. 
Such  an  opportunity  I  shall  eagerly  await." 

"  I  have  done  no  more  than  any  man  should," 
replied  Shock  simply.  "  And  I  am  only  glad  to  have 
had  the  chance." 

"  Chance ! "  echoed  the  Old  Prospector.  "  I  have 
found  that  we  make  our  chances,  sir.  But  now  you 
will  require  lodging.  I  regret  I  cannot  offer  you 
hospitality.  Perault,  go  down  to  the  Stopping  Place, 
present  my  compliments  to  Carroll  and  ask  him  to  give 
Mr.  Macgregor  the  best  accommodation  he  has.  The 
best  is  none  too  good.  And,  Perault,  we  shall  need 
another  pony  and  a  new  outfit.  In  a  few  days  we 
must  be  on  the  move  again.  See  Carroll  about  these 
things  and  report.  Meantime,  Mr.  Macgregor,  you 
will  remain  with  us  to  tea." 

"  Carroll ! "   exclaimed  Perault  in  a  tone   of  dis- 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

gust.  "  Dat  man  no  good  'tall.  I  get  you  one  pony 
cheap.  Dat  Carroll  he's  one  beeg  tief ." 

The  little  Frenchman's  eyes  glittered  with  hate. 

"  Perault,"  replied  the  Old  Prospector  quietly,  "  I 
quite  understand  you  have  your  own  quarrel  with 
Carroll,  but  these  are  my  affairs.  Carroll  will  not 
cheat  me." 

"  Ah !  Bah ! "  spat  Perault  in  a  vicious  undertone 
of  disgust.  "  De  ole  boss  he  blam-f  ool.  He  not  see 
noting."  And  Perault  departed,  grumbling  and 
swearing,  to  make  his  deal  with  Carroll. 

Timothy  Carroll  was  a  man  altogether  remarkable, 
even  in  that  country  of  remarkable  men.  Of  his 
past  history  little  was  known.  At  one  time  a  Hudson 
Bay  trader,  then  a  freighter.  At  present  he  "  ran  " 
the  Loon  Lake  Stopping  Place  and  a  livery  stable, 
took  contracts  in  freight,  and  conducted  a  general 
trading  business  in  horses,  cattle — anything,  in  short, 
that  could  be  bought  and  sold  in  that  country.  A 
man  of  powerful  physique  and  great  shrewdness,  he 
easily  dominated  the  community  of  Loon  Lake.  He 
was  a  curious  mixture  of  incongruous  characteristics. 
At  the  same  time  many  a  poor  fellow  had  found  in 
him  a  friend  in  sickness  or  "  in  hard  luck,"  and  by 
his  wife  and  family  he  was  adored.  His  tenderness 
for  little  lame  Patsy  was  the  marvel  of  all  who  knew 
the  terrible  Tim  Carroll.  He  had  a  furious  temper, 
and  in  wrath  was  truly  terrifying,  while  in  matters  of 
trade  he  was  cool,  cunning,  and  unscrupulous.  Few 
men  had  ever  dared  to  face  his  rage,  and  few  had 
ever  worsted  him  in  a  "  deal."  No  wonder  Perault, 


TIM    CARROLL  153 

who  had  experienced  both  the  fury  of  his  rage  and 
the  unscrupulousness  of  his  trading  methods,  ap- 
proached him  with  reluctance.  But,  though  Perault 
had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the  big  Irishman,  the 
chief  cause  of  his  hatred  was  not  personal.  He 
knew,  what  many  others  in  the  community  suspected, 
that  for  years  Carroll  had  systematically  robbed  and 
had  contributed  largely  to  the  ruin  of  his  "  old  boss." 
Walter  Mowbray  was  haunted  by  one  enslaving  vice. 
He  was  by  temperament  and  by  habit  a  gambler.  It 
was  this  v:2e  that  had  been  his  ruin.  In  the  madness 
of  his  passion  he  had  risked  and  lost,  one  fatal  night 
in  the  old  land,  the  funds  of  the  financial  institution 
of  which  he  was  the  trusted  and  honoured  head.  In 
the  agony  of  his  shame  he  had  fled  from  his  home, 
leaving  in  her  grave  his  broken-hearted  wife,  and 
abandoning  to  the  care  of  his  maiden  sister  his  little 
girl  of  a  year  old,  and  had  sought,  in  the  feverish 
search  for  gold,  relief  from  haunting  memory,  re- 
demption for  himself,  and  provision  for  his  child. 
In  his  prospecting  experiments  success  had  attended 
him.  He  developed  in  a  marvellous  degree  the  pros- 
pector's instinct,  for  instinct  it  appeared  to  be;  and 
many  of  the  important  prospects,  and  some  of  the 
most  valuable  mines  in  Southern  British  Columbia, 
had  been  discovered  by  him. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Carroll  took  a  hand.  Act- 
ing in  collusion  with  the  expert  agent  for  the  British 
American  Gold  and  Silver  Mining  Company,  he  had 
bought  for  hundreds  of  dollars  and  sold  for  thousands 
the  Old  Prospector's  claims.  Not  that  the  old  man 


154  THE    PROSPECTOR 

-N 

had  lost  that  financial  ability  or  that  knowledge  of 
human  nature  that  had  given  him  his  high  place  in 
former  days,  but  he  was  possessed  of  a  dream  of 
wealth  so  vast  that  ordinary  fortunes  shrank  into 
insignificance  in  comparison.  He  had  fallen  under 
the  spell  of  an  Indian  tale  of  a  lost  river  of 
fabulous  wealth  in  gold  that  disturbed  all  his  sense 
of  value.  In  one  of  his  prospecting  tours  he  had 
come  upon  an  old  Indian  hunter,  torn  by  a  griz- 
zly and  dying.  For  weeks  he  nursed  the  old 
Indian  in  his  camp  with  tender  but  unavailing 
care.  In  gratitude,  the  dying  man  had  told  of  the 
lost  river  that  flowed  over  rocks  and  sands  sown 
with  gold.  In  his  young  days  the  Indian  had  seen 
the  river  and  had  gathered  its  "yellow  sand  and 
stones";  in  later  years,  however,  when  he  had  come 
to  know  something  of  the  value  of  this  "  yellow  sand 
and  stones  "  he  had  sought  the  river,  but  in  vain.  A 
mountain  peak  in  one  vast  slide  had  filled  up  the 
valley,  diverted  the  course  of  the  river,  and  changed 
the  whole  face  of  the  country.  For  many  summers 
the  Indian  had  sought  with  the  unfaltering  patience 
of  his  race  the  bed  of  the  lost  river,  and  at  length,  that 
very  summer,  he  had  discovered  it.  Deep  down  in 
a  side  canyon  in  the  bed  of  a  trickling  brook  he  had 
found  "  yellow  sand  and  stones "  similar  to  those  of 
the  lost  river  of  his  youth.  As  the  dying  Indian 
poured  out  from  his  buckskin  bag  the  glittering  sand 
and  rusty  bits  of  rock,  there  entered  into  the  Old 
Prospector  the  terrible  gold-lust  that  for  thirteen 
years  burned  as  a  fever  in  his  bones  and  lured  him  on 


TIM    CARROLL  155 

through  perils  and  privations,  over  mountains  and 
along  canyons,  making  him  insensible  to  storms  and 
frosts  and  burning  suns,  and  that  even  now,  old  man 
as  he  was,  worn  and  broken,  still  burned  with  un- 
quenchable flame. 

Under  the  spell  of  that  dream  of  wealth  he  found 
it  easy  to  pay  his  "  debts  of  honour  "  to  Carroll  with 
mining  claims,  which,  however  valuable  in  themselves, 
were  to  him  paltry  in  comparison  with  the  wealth  of 
the  Lost  River,  to  which  every  year  brought  him 
nearer,  and  which  one  day  he  was  sure  he  would 
possess.  That  Carroll  and  his  confederate  robbed 
him  he  knew  well  enough,  but  finding  Carroll  useful 
to  him,  both  in  the  way  of  outfitting  his  annual  expe- 
ditions and  in  providing  means  for  the  gratifying  of 
his  life-long  gambling  passion,  by  which  the  deadly 
monotony  of  the  long  winter  days  and  nights  was 
relieved,  he  tolerated  while  he  scorned  him  and  his 
villainy. 

Not  so  Perault,  whose  devotion  to  his  "  ole  boss  " 
was  equalled  only  by  his  hate  of  those  who  robbed 
while  they  derided  him,  and  he  set  himself  to  the  task 
of  thwarting  their  nefarious  schemes.  For  this 
Perault  had  incurred  the  savage  wrath  of  Carroll, 
and  more  than  once  had  suffered  bodily  injury  at 
his  hands. 

The  Stopping  Place  was  filled  with  men  from  the 
ranges,  freighters  from  the  trail,  and  the  nondescript 
driftwood  that  the  waves  of  civilisation  cast  up  upon 
those  far-away  shores  of  human  society.  With  all 
of  them  Perault  was  a  favourite.  Carroll  was  out 


156  THE    PROSPECTOR 

when  he  entered.  On  all  sides  he  was  greeted  with 
exclamations  of  surprise,  pleasure,  and  curiosity,  for 
all  knew  that  he  had  set  out  upon  another  "  annual 
fool  hunt,"  as  the  Prospector's  yearly  expedition  was 
called.  "Hello,  Rainy,  what's  happened?9'  "Got 
yer  gold  dust?"  "Goin'  to  retire,  Rainy?"  "The 
Old  Prospector  struck  his  river  yit  ?  "  greeted  him  on 
every  side. 

"  Oui,  by  gar !  He  struck  heem,  for  sure,"  grinned 
Perault. 

"What?  The  Lost  River?"  "What?  His 
mine?"  chorused  the  crowd,  awakened  to  more  than 
ordinary  interest. 

"Non,  not  Los'  River,  but  los'  man,  blank  near." 
And  Perault  went  on  to  describe,  with  dramatic  fer- 
vour and  appropriate  gesticulation,  the  scene  at  the 
Black  Dog,  bringing  out  into  strong  relief  his  own 
helplessness  and  stupidity,  and  the  cool  daring  of  the 
stranger  who  had  snatched  his  "  ole  boss  "  out  of  the 
j  aws  of  the  Black  Dog. 

"  By  Jove ! "  exclaimed  a  rancher  when  the  narra- 
tive was  finished,  "not  bad,  that.  Who  was  the 
chap,  Rainy  ?  " 

"  Do'  no  me.  Tink  he's  one  what  you  call  pries*. 
Your  Protestan'  pries'." 

"  What,  a  preacher  ?  "  cried  the  rancher.  "  Not  he« 
They're  not  made  that  way." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  Sinclair,"  said  another 
rancher.  "  There's  Father  Mike,  you  know." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Sinclair.  "  But  there  are  hardly 
two  of  that  kind  on  the  same  range." 


TIM    CARROLL  157 

"Fadder  Mike!"  sniffed  Perault  contemptuously. 
"Dat  beeg  feller  hees  roll  Fadder  Mike  up  in  one 
beeg  bunch  an'  stick  heem  in  hees  pocket.  Dat  feller 
he's  not  'fraid  noting.  Beeg  blam-fool,  jus'  lak  ole 
boss,  for  sure." 

"  I  guess  he  must  be  good  stuff,  Rainy,  if  you  put 
him  in  that  class." 

"Dat's  hees  place,"  averred  Rainy  with  emphasis. 
"Jus'  lak  ole  boss." 

At  this  point  Carroll  came  in. 

"Hello,  Perault!"  he  said.  "What  the  blank, 
blank  are  ye  doin'  here?  " 

Perault  spat  deliberately  into  the  ash-pan,  tipped 
back  his  chair  without  looking  at  the  big  Irishman, 
and  answered  coolly: 

"Me?  After  one  pack  pony  an'  some  outfit  for 
de  ole  boss." 

"  Pony  an'  outfit,  is  it?  "  shouted  Carroll.  "  What 
the  blank,  blank  d'ye  mane?  What  'av  ye  done  wid 
that  pack  pony  av  moine,  an'  where's  yer  blank  ould 
fool  av  *a  boss  ?  " 

Carroll  was  working  himself  up  into  a  fine  rage. 

"De  boss,  he's  in  bed,"  replied  Perault  coolly. 
"  De  pony,  he's  in  de  Black  Dog  Reever,  guess." 

"The  Black  Dog?  What  the  blank,  blank  d'ye 
mane,  anyway?  Why  don't  ye  answer?  Blank  ye 
f'r  a  cursed  crapeau  of  a  Frenchman?  Is  that  pony 
of  moine  drowned?  " 

"Mebbe,"  said  Perault,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
"  unless  he  leev  under  de  water  lak  one  mush-rat." 

"Blank  yer  impudence,"   roared  Carroll,  "to  be 


1158  THE    PROSPECTOR 

sittin'  there  laughin'  in  me  face  at  the  loss  av  me 
property.  It's  no  better  than  a  pack  of  thieves 
ye  are." 

"Tieves!"  answered  Perault,  in  quick  anger. 
"  Dere's  one  beeg,  black,  hairy  tief  not  far  'way  dat's 
got  hees  money  for  dat  pony  two — three  tarn  overe." 

Choking  with  rage,  Carroll  took  one  step  toward 
him,  kicked  his  chair  clean  from  under  him,  and 
deposited  the  Frenchman  on  the  floor  amid  a  shout  of 
laughter  from  the  crowd.  In  blazing  wrath  Perault 
was  on  his  feet  with  a  bound,  and,  swinging  his  chair 
around  his  head,  hurled  it  full  in  the  face  of  his 
enemy.  Carroll  caught  it  on  his  arm  and  came  rush- 
ing at  the  Frenchman. 

"  You  one  beeg  black  tief,"  shrieked  Perault,  draw- 
ing a  knife  and  striking  savagely  at  the  big  Irishman. 

As  he  delivered  his  blow  Carroll  caught  him  by  the 
wrist,  wrenched  the  knife  from  his  grasp,  seizing  him 
by  the  throat  proceeded  to  choke  him.  The  crowd 
stood  looking  on,  hesitating  to  interfere.  A  fight  was 
understood  in  that  country  to  be  the  business  of  no 
man  save  those  immediately  concerned.  Besides  this, 
Carroll  was  dreaded  for  his  great  strength  and  his 
furious  temper,  and  no  man  cared  to  imperil  his  life 
by  attacking  him. 

"  Blank  yer  cursed  soul ! "  cried  Carroll  through  his 
clenched  teeth.  "It's  this  Oi've  been  waintin'  f'r 
many  a  day,  an'  now  by  the  powers  Oi'll  be  takin'  the 
life  of  yez,  so  Oi  will." 

His  threat  would  undoubtedly  have  been  carried 
out,  for  Perault  was  bent  far  back,  his  face  was  black, 


TIM    CARROLL 

and  his  tongue  protruded  from  his  wide  open  mouth. 
But  at  this  moment  the  door  opened  and  Shock  quietly 
stepped  in.  For  a  single  instant  he  stood  gazing  in 
amazement  upon  the  strange  scene,  then  stepping 
quickly  behind  Carroll,  whose  back  was  toward  the 
door,  he  caught  his  wrist. 

"  You  are  killing  the  man,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Oi  am  that  same ! "  hissed  Carroll,  his  eyes  blood- 
shot with  the  light  of  murder  in  them.  "  An'  by  all 
the  powers  of  hell  Oi'll  be  havin'  yer  heart's  blood  if 
ye  don't  kape  aff." 

"  Indeed,  then,  he's  too  small  a  man  for  you,  and 
as  to  myself,  we  can  see  about  that  later,"  said  Shock 
quietly. 

He  closed  his  fingers  on  the  wrist  he  held.  The 
hand  gripping  Perault's  throat  opened  quickly,  allow- 
ing the  Frenchman  to  fall  to  the  floor.  Swinging 
round  with  a  hoarse  cry,  the  big  Irishman  aimed  a 
terrific  blow  at  Shock's  head.  But  Shock,  catching 
the  blow  on  his  arm,  drew  Carroll  sharply  toward  him, 
at  the  same  time  giving  a  quick  downward  twist  to 
the  wrist  he  held,  a  trick  of  the  Japanese  wrestlers 
the  'Varsity  men  had  been  wont  to  practise.  There 
was  a  slight  crack,  a  howl  of  pain,  and  Carroll  sank 
writhing  on  the  floor,  with  Shock's  grip  still  on  his 
wrist. 

"  Let  me  up,"  he  roared. 

"Will  you  let  the  little  man  alone?"  asked  Shock 
quietly. 

"  Let  me  up,  blank  ye !  It's  yer  heart's  blood  will 
pay  for  this." 


160  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Will  you  leave  the  little  man  alone?  "  asked  Shock 
in  a  relentlessly  even  tone. 

"Yis,  yis,"  groaned  Carroll.  "Me  wrist's  bruk, 
so  it  is.  But  Oi'll  be  afther  doin'  f'r  yez,  ye  blank, 
blank " 

Carroll's  profanity  flowed  in  a  copious  stream. 

"As  to  that,"  said  Shock,  quietly  stepping  back 
from  him,  "we  can  discuss  that  later;  but  it  is  a 
shame  for  a  man  like  you  to  be  choking  a  little  chap 
like  that." 

The  old  football  scrimmage  smile  was  on  Shock's 
face  as  he  stood  waiting  for  Carroll  to  rise.  The 
whole  incident  had  occurred  so  unexpectedly  and  so 
suddenly  that  the  crowd  about  stood  amazed,  quite 
unable  to  realise  just  what  had  happened. 

After  a  time  the  big  Irishman  slowly  rose,  holding 
his  wounded  wrist  and  grinding  out  curses.  Then 
suddenly  seizing  with  his  uninjured  hand  the  chair 
which  Perault  had  thrown  at  him,  he  raised  it  aloft 
and  with  a  wild  yell  brought  it  down  upon  Shock's 
head.  With  his  yell  mingled  a  shrill  cry.  It  was 
little  Patsy.  He  had  stolen  in  behind  his  father,  and 
with  eyes  growing  wider  and  wider  had  stood  listen- 
ing to  his  father's  groans  and  curses. 

Gradually  the  meaning  of  the  scene  dawned  upon 
little  Patsy's  mind.  His  father  had  been  hurt,  and 
there  stood  the  man  who  had  hurt  him.  In  a  fury 
the  little  lad  hurtled  across  the  room,  and  just  as 
his  father  delivered  his  terrific  blow  he  threw  him- 
self, with  crutch  uplifted,  at  the  astonished  Shock 
and  right  in  the  way  of  the  descending  chair. 


TIM    CARROLL  161 

Instead  of  starting  back  to  avoid  the  blow,  as  he 
might  easily  have  done,  Shock  without  a  moment's 
hesitation  sprang  towards  the  child,  taking  the  full 
weight  of  the  blow  upon  his  arm  and  head,  but 
without  entirely  saving  Patsy.  Together  they  fell, 
Shock  bleeding  profusely  from  a  deep  cut  on  the 
head. 

Two  men  sprang  to  his  aid,  while  Carroll  stood 
stupidly  gazing  down  upon  the  white  face  of  the  little 
boy. 

"Never  mind  me,"  said  Shock,  recovering  con- 
sciousness quickly,  "look  to  the  child.  Is  he  hurt?" 

"He's  dead,  I  guess,"  said  Sinclair. 

"  It's  a  lie ! "  cried  Carroll,  in  a  hoarse  voice.  "  It's 
a  blank  lie,  I  tell  you!" 

His  face  was  white  and  his  terrible  eyes,  so  lately 
suffused  with  the  light  of  murder,  were  filled  with 
startled  terror.  He  dropped  beside  his  child  and 
lifted  him  in  his  arms,  crying  softly,  "Patsy,  boy! 
Aw,  now  Patsy,  darlin'.  Spake  to  me,  Patsy." 

But  the  long  lashes  lay  quietly  upon  the  white 
cheeks,  and  the  little  form  remained  limp  and  still. 
Carroll  lifted  an  amazed  and  terror-stricken  face  to 
the  company. 

"  What  have  I  done  ?  Sure  he's  not  dead ! "  he  said 
in  an  awed  whisper. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Shock,  wiping  the  blood  out  of  his 
eyes  and  leaning  over  the  little  white  face.  "  Water, 
Perault,  and  brandy,"  he  cried.  "  Quick ! " 

The  men  who  had  stood  aghast  at  the  tragic  ending 
of  what  had  been  simply  a  row  of  more  than  ordinary 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

interest  now  hastened  to  give  help.  Water  and 
brandy  were  immediately  at  hand.  Ignoring  his  own 
wound,  Shock  bathed  the  face  and  hands  of  the 
unconscious  child,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  life. 

"Guess  he's  gone  out,  right  enough,"  said  a 
cowboy. 

"Liar!  Liar!  Blank  your  cursed  soul  for  a 
liar ! "  cried  Carroll,  in  a  tone  of  agony. 

"  Man,  man ! "  said  Shock,  in  c,  stern,  solemn  voice, 
"would  you  provoke  the  Almighty  to  anger  with 
your  oaths  ?  You  ought  rather  to  beseech  His  mercy 
for  your  own  soul.  Why  should  He  give  your  child 
to  the  care  of  such  a  man  as  you?  Give  me  the 
lad." 

Without  a  word  of  remonstrance  Carroll  allowed 
Shock  to  lift  the  lifeless  child  and  carry  him  into  the 
open  air,  where,  laying  him  on  the  ground,  he  began 
to  vigorously  chafe  his  hands  and  feet.  After  some 
minutes  of  bathing  and  rubbing  the  eyelids  began  to 
flutter  and  the  breath  to  come  in  gentle  sighs. 

"  Brandy  now,  Perault,"  said  Shock.  "  There  now, 
laddie.  Thank  God,  he  is  coming  to ! " 

"  Dad,  dad,  where's  dad?  "  said  little  Patsy  faintly, 
opening  his  eyes.  "  I  want  dad." 

"Here!  Here!  Patsy  mannie,"  cried  his  father 
quickly,  coming  from  behind  the  crowd  where  he  had 
been  standing  dazed  and  stupid.  "  Stand  back 
there!  Let  me  have  my  boy,"  he  added  savagely. 

He  swept  both  Perault  and  Shock  angrily  aside, 
gathered  the  little  lad  tenderly  in  his  arms  and  strode 
off  into  the  house,  the  white  face  of  the  child  resting 


TIM    CARROLL  163 

on  his  father's  shoulder  and  his  golden  curls  mingling 
with  the  black,  coarse  masses  of  his  father's  hair  and 
beard. 

"Well,  I'll  be  blanked!'5  said  one  of  the  men. 
"  Wouldn't  that  pall  you ! " 

"  Blank  cantankerous  cuss ! "  said  the  cowboy. 
"  Never  a  '  thank  you '  for  gittin'  half  killed  in  place 
of  his  kid." 

Perault  walked  up  to  Shock,  and  offering  his  hand, 
said  in  a  voice  husky  and  broken,  "  Dat's  two  for  you 
dis  evenin' — me  an'  dat  leele  feller.  For  me — I  can't 
spik  my  heart,"  smiting  himself  on  the  breast,  "but 
my  heart — dat's  your  own  now,  by  gar!"  He 
wrung  Shock's  hand  in  both  of  his  and  turned  quickly 
away  But  before  he  had  taken  many  steps  he  re- 
turned, saying,  "  Come  on  wit  me !  I  f eex  up  your 
head."  And  without  further  words  Shock  and  Perault 
passed  into  the  Stopping  Place. 

The  men  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  for  a  time, 
then  the  cowboy ,  said  with  unusual  emphasis,  "  Boys, 
he's  white !  He's  blanked  white ! " 


X 

THE    TURF    MEET 

THE    great    brown    shadows    of   the    rolling 
hills  had  quite  filled  the  hollows  between   and 
were  slowly  climbing  up  the  western  slope  of 
every  undulation    when   Shock   reached  the 
lip  of  the  broad  river  bed  in  which  lay  the  little  fort 
town. 

The  white  clump  of  buildings  standing  by  them- 
selves he  knew  to  be  the  barracks  of  the  North- West 
Mounted  Police.  The  flag  floating  above  showed 
that,  as  well  as  the  air  of  military  neatness  about 
them. 

The  town  straggled  along  two  intersecting  streets, 
and  then  frayed  out  over  the  flats  in  isolated  and  de- 
jected-looking shacks.  The  more  imposing  buildings 
on  the  main  street  Shock  guessed  were  the  hotels  and 
stores.  One  of  the  latter  he  recognised  from  its  flag 
as  that  of  the  ancient  and  honourable  Hudson's  Bay 
Company.  On  a  back  street  here  and  there  stood  a 
house  surrounded  by  a  garden  and  scrubby  trees,  a 
pathetic  attempt  to  reproduce  in  this  treeless  country 
what  in  other  lands  had  been  fondly  called  home. 

Away  on  every  side  stretched  the  vast  sweep  of 
rolling  prairie  to  where  the  amber  of  the  sky-line 
mingled  with  the  grey  blue  of  the  earth. 

164 


THE    TURF    MEET  165 

How  insignificant,  how  miserable  and  wretched  in 
the  midst  of  this  expanse  of  sky  and  earth,  seemed 
the  huddling  bunch  of  dejected  buildings,  and  yet 
the  whole  interest  of  heaven  above  and  earth  around 
centred  in  those  straggling  shacks,  for  they  were  the 
abodes  of  men. 

From  feasting  his  heart  upon  the  marvellous 
beauty  of  the  expanse  of  rounded  hills,  with  their 
variegation  of  sunlight  and  shadow,  and  the  expanse 
of  cloudless  sky,  deep  blue  overhead  and  shading  by 
indefinable  transitions  through  blues  and  purples  into 
pearl  greys  and  rose  tints,  and  at  last  into  glorious 
yellow  gold  at  the  horizon,  Shock,  with  almost  a  shud- 
der, turned  his  eyes  to  the  little  ragged  town  beneath 
him.  How  marvellous  the  works  of  God !  How  ugly 
the  things  man  makes ! 

It  was  partly  the  infinitude  of  this  contrast  that 
wrought  in  Shock  a  feeling  of  depression  as  he  fol- 
lowed the  trail  winding  down  the  long  slope  toward 
the  town.  As  he  became  aware  of  this  depression,  he 
took  himself  severely  to  task. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  me,  anyway  ?  "  he  asked 
himself  impatiently.  "  I'm  not  afraid  of  them." 
And  yet  he  had  a  suspicion  that  it  was  just  this  that 
troubled  him.  He  was  afraid.  The  feeling  was  not 
one  with  which  he  was  unfamiliar.  Often  before  a 
big  match  he  had  been  shamefully  conscious  of  this 
same  nervous  fear.  He  remembered  how  his  heart 
had  seemed  to^  big  for  his  body,  till  he  felt  it  in  his 
throat.  But  he  remembered  now,  with  no  small  com- 
fort, that  once  the  ball  was  kicked  his  heart  had 


166  THE    PROSPECTOR 

always  gone  back  to  its  place  and  its  work  and  gave 
him  no  further  concern,  and  to-day  he  hoped  this 
might  be  his  experience  again. 

It  was  a  great  day  at  the  Fort,  nothing  less  than 
the  Spring  Meeting  of  the  South  Alberta  Turf  Asso- 
ciation; and  in  that  horse  country,  where  men  were 
known  by  their  horses  rather  than  by  personal  char- 
acteristics, the  meeting  of  the  Turf  Association 
easily  took  precedence  over  all  other  events,  social  or 
political. 

This  spring,  to  the  interest  naturally  centring  in 
the  races,  there  was  added  a  special  interest,  in  that, 
behind  the  horses  entered  for  the  Association  Cup, 
there  gathered  intense  local  feeling.  The  three 
favourites  were  representative  horses.  The  money  of 
the  police  and  all  the  Fort  contingent  in  the  com- 
munity had  been  placed  on  the  long,  rangey 
thoroughbred,  Foxhall,  an  imported  racer  who  had 
been  fast  enough  to  lose  money  in  the  great  racing 
circuits  of  the  East,  but  who  was  believed  to  be  fast 
enough  to  win  money  here  in  the  West. 

The  district  about  the  fort  town  was  divided  into 
two  sections,  the  east  and  the  west.  In  the  eastern 
section  the  farming  industry  was  carried  on  to  an 
almost  equal  extent  with  ranching;  in  the  west,  up 
among  the  hills,  there  was  ranching  pure  and  simple. 
Between  the  two  sections  a  strong  rivalry  existed. 
In  this  contest  the  east  had  "banked"  on  Captain 
Hal  Harricomb,  rancher  and  gentleman  farmer,  and 
his  black  Demon.  The  western  men,  all  ranchers, 
who  despised  and  hated  farmers  and  everything  per- 


THE     TURF    MEET  167 

taining  to  them,  were  all  ranged  behind  the  Swallow, 
a  dainty  little  bay  mare,  bred,  owned,  and  ridden  by 
a  young  Englishman,  Victor  Stanton,  known  through- 
out the  Albertas,  south  and  north,  as  "The  Kid." 
or,  affectionately,  "The  Kiddie,"  admired  for  his 
superb  riding,  his  reckless  generosity,  his  cool  cour- 
age, and  loved  for  his  gentle,  generous  heart. 

Already  two  heats  had  been  run,  one  going  to  the 
Demon  and  one  to  the  Swallow,  Foxhall  sustaining  his 
Eastern  reputation  as  a  money-loser. 

The  excitement  of  the  day  had  gradually  grown  in 
intensity,  and  now  was  concentrated  in  the  final  heat 
of  the  Association  Cup  race. 

All  unconscious  of  this  excitement  and  of  the  tre- 
mendous issues  at  stake,  Shock  sent  his  little  cayuse 
peacefully  trotting  along  the  trail  to  where  it  met 
the  main  street.  The  street  was  lined  on  either  side 
with  men  and  horses.  Something  was  evidently  going 
on,  but  what  Shock  could  not  see. 

But  no  sooner  had  he  turned  up  the  street  than 
there  was  a  fierce  outburst  of  yells,  oaths,  and  execra- 
tions, and  at  the  same  moment  he  heard  behind  him 
the  pounding  of  hoofs. 

Hastily  glancing  over  his  shoulder,  he  saw  thunder- 
ing down  upon  him  half  a  dozen  or  more  mounted 
men.  In  vain  he  tugged  at  his  cayuse.  The  little 
brute  allowed  his  stubborn  head  to  be  hauled  round 
close  to  the  shaft,  but  declined  to  remove  his  body; 
and,  indeed,  had  he  been  ever  so  eager,  there  would 
hardly  have  been  time.  A  big  black  horse  was  plung- 
ing wildly  not  more  than  ten  feet  behind  him.  A 


168  THE    PROSPECTOR 

fierce  oath,  a  shower  of  dust  and  gravel  in  his  face,  a 
flash  of  legs  and  hoofs,  and  the  big  black  was 
lifted  clear  over  Shock  and  his  cayuse,  and  was  off 
again  down  the  street  between  the  lines  of  yelling 
men. 

"Here,  blank  your  blank  head!  Git  off  the 
course !  Don't  you  know  nothin'  ?  " 

When  Shock  came  to  himself,  he  was  aware  that  a 
tall,  lanky  cowboy  in  chaps,  woollen  shirt,  and  stiff, 
broad-brimmed  hat  was  pounding  his  cayuse  over  the 
head  with  his  heavy  whip. 

Shock  never  knew  how  it  happened.  All  he  remem- 
bered was  a  quick  rush  of  blood  to  his  brain,  a  mad 
desire  to  punish  the  man  who  was  brutally  beating 
his  pony,  and  then  standing  by  the  shaft  of  his  buck- 
board  waiting  for  the  man  to  get  up. 

"  Gad,  sir ! "  exclaimed  a  voice  over  his  shoulder, 
"  that  was  a  clever  throw ! "  There  was  genuine  ad- 
miration in  the  voice. 

Shock  looked  up  and  saw  an  old  gentleman,  with 
white,  close-cropped  hair  and  moustache  and  erect 
military  form,  regarding  him  with  admiration.  He 
was  riding  a  stout  hunter,  docked  in  English  style. 

"  And  served  you  perfectly  right,  Ike,"  continued 
the  old  gentleman.  "What  business  have  you  to 
strike  any  man's  horse?" 

"  What  the  blank  blank  is  he  doing  on  the  course?  " 
said  Ike  wrathf ully,  as  he  slowly  rose  from  the  ground 
and  came  toward  Shock. 

"I  say,  stranger,"  he  said,  coming  over  near  to 
Shock  and  looking  him  carefully  in  the  eye,  "  I'll  give 


THE    TURF    MEET  169 

you  twenty-five  dollars  if  you  do  that  agin.     You 
took  me  unbeknownst.     Now,  git  to  work." 

Shock's  heart  had  got  back  to  its  right  place  and 
was  beating  its  steady  beat.  The  old  scrimmage  smile 
was  on  his  face. 

"  But  I  do  not  want  to  do  it  again,  and  I  did  take 
you  unawares." 

"  Look-a-here,"  said  Ike5  touching  Shock  with  his 
forefinger  on  the  breast,  "do  you  think  you  kin  do 
it  agin?" 

"  Don't  know  that  I  could,"  said  Shock  quietly. 
"  But  I  do  know  that  I  do  not  intend  to  try.  And,  in 
fact,  I  do  not  know  how  it  was  done." 

"  Ikey  does,"  drawled  a  voice. 

There  was  a  delighted  roar  from  the  crowd  that 
had  gathered  round.  Ike  looked  round  the  circle  of 
grinning  men  for  a  second  or  two. 

"  Say,"  he  said  slowly,  "  if  any  blank,  blank  son 
of  a  she-ape  thinks  he  knows  how  to  do  that  trick  when 
I'm  a-watchin',  here's  his  opportunity  right  naouw — 
fer  fun,  or  fer  money,  or,"  lowering  his  voice  and 
thrusting  forward  his  face  a  little,  "  fer  blood." 

The  laugh  died  out  from  the  crowd.  There  was  a 
silence  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  the  same  voice 
drawled,  "  Nobody's  hungry,  I  guess,  Ikey,"  and  Ike 
turned  from  them  with  a  grunt  of  contempt. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  coming  back  to  Shock,  "  I'd  like  to 
hear  you  talk." 

Ike  threw  himself  into  an  attitude  of  defence,  but 
Shock's  position  never  changed,  nor  did  the  smile  fade 
from  his  face. 


170  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say  except  that  I  do  not  know 
how  it  happened.  I  saw  my  horse  being  abused,  and 
- — well,  I  acted  a  little  hastily,  I  fear." 

"  Hastily ! "  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  who  had 
remained  in  the  crowd.  "  Nonsense !  Perfectly  right, 
I  say,  and  Ike  knows  it.  What  would  you  do,  Ike,  if 
you  saw  a  fellow  pounding  Slipper  over  the  ears  ?  " 

"Poundin'  Slipper?"  said  Ike  slowly,  pausing  to 
turn  his  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  cheek.  "  Poundin' 
Slipper,"  he  repeated  with  even  greater  deliberation. 
"  Knock  his  blank  face  into  the  back  of  his  head." 

"  Then  it  seems  to  me,  Ike,  you  were  let  off  easy." 
The  old  gentleman  smiled  grimly  down  upon  the  cow- 
boy, who  was  still  wrathful,  but  more  puzzled  than 
wrathful.  The  smiling  man  at  the  pony's  head  looked 
so  thoroughly  good-natured  that  it  was  hard  to  push 
a  quarrel,  but  still  Ike's  dignity  had  been  injured. 

"  What  I  beg  to  remark  is,"  he  continued,  return- 
ing to  the  attack,  "  kin  he  do  it  agin  ?  Does  he  have 
any  lingerin'  suspicion  that  he  is  capable  of  that 
act?"  Ike  reserved  his  best  English  for  serious  oc- 
casions. "  If  he  does,  I'm  willin'  he  should  extem- 
porise at  it." 

66  Good  man,  Ikey !  "  drawled  the  voice  again  from 
the  crowd.  "I'll  back  Ikey  to  his  last  pant's 
button." 

Shock  stood  silent  and  smiling,  while  Ike  stood  fac- 
ing him,  more  and  more  puzzled.  Shock  was  an  en- 
tirely new  experience.  He  would  not  fight,  he  would 
not  run  away,  he  would  not  even  get  angry. 

At  this  point  the  old  gentleman  interfered. 


THE    TURF    MEET  171 

"  Now,  Ikey,"  he  said,  "  it  is  time  you  were  learning 
some  manners.  This  gentleman  is  no  pugilist.  He 
has  neither  the  desire  nor  the  intention  of  fighting 
you,  which  is  perhaps  all  the  better  for  you.  That  is 
a  poor  way  to  treat  a  stranger  the  first  day  he  arrives 
in  our  town.  Perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  be  of  some 
service  to  you,"  he  said,  turning  to  Shock. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Shock  simply.  "I  am  in  need 
of  a  doctor  first  of  all.  Two  of  my  friends  at  Loon 
Lake  are  very  ill.  Is  there  a  doctor  in  this  town?  " 

"  There  is,"  replied  the  old  gentleman.  "  Dr.  Bur- 
ton. But  I  very  much  fear  that  he  will  hardly  be 
fit  for  service  to-day.  Unfortunately,  our  doctor, 
though  a  remarkably  clever  practitioner,  is  not  al- 
ways— well,  to  be  quite  frank,  he  is  very  frequently 
drunk.  Get  him  sober  and  he  will  do  you  good 
service." 

"  How  shall  I  accomplish  that?  "  asked  Shock,  with 
a  feeling  of  despair  in  his  heart,  thinking  of  the  Old 
Prospector  in  his  pain  and  of  little  Patsy  lying  in 
semi-unconsciousness  in  the  back  room  of  the  Loon 
Creek  Stopping  Place.  "  I  must  have  a  doctor.  I 
cannot  go  back  without  one." 

"Then,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "you  will  need 
to  kidnap  him  and  wait  till  he  sobers  off." 

"  I  shall  try,"  said  Shock  quietly. 

The  old  gentleman  stared  at  him. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  said,  "  I  believe  you  mean  to.  And 
if  you  do,  you'll  succeed." 

"  Can  you  direct  me  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Macf ar- 
ren?"  inquired  Shock. 


172  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Certainly.  That  is  his  house  among  the  trees," 
pointing  to  a  cottage  with  a  verandah  about  it,  which 
stood  back  some  distance  from  the  main  street. 
"  But  if  you  wish  to  see  Mr.  Macfarren,  you  will  find 
him  down  at  the  other  end  of  the  street  at  the  finishing 
post.  He  will  be  very  busily  engaged  at  the  present, 
however,  being  one  of  the  judges  in  this  race,  and  if 
it  is  not  of  immediate  importance  I  would  advise  your 
waiting  till  the  race  is  over.  But  stay,  here  he  comes. 
The  man  in  the  centre  is  Mr.  Macfarren." 

As  he  spoke  he  pointed  to  a  tall  man,  with  a  long, 
grizzled  beard,  riding  a  pony,  followed  by  two 
younger  men  splendidly  mounted.  The  elder  of  these 
was  a  man  strongly  built,  face  open  and  honest,  but 
showing  signs  of  hard  living.  He  rode  a  powerful 
black  horse,  whose  temper  showed  in  his  fierce  snatch- 
ing at  the  bit.  Just  now  the  horse  was  covered  with 
foam,  reddened  at  the  flanks  and  mouth  with  blood. 

His  companion  was  much  younger,  a  mere  boy, 
indeed.  His  fair  hair,  blue  eyes,  and  smooth  face 
accentuated  his  youthful  appearance.  It  was  his 
youthful  face  and  boyish  manner  that  gave  him  his 
name  among  the  cattle  men,  and  his  place  in  their 
hearts.  But  though  they  called  him  "  The  Kid,"  and 
often  "  The  Kiddie,"  and  thought  of  him  with  admir- 
ing and  caressing  tenderness,  no  man  of  them  failed 
to  give  him  full  respect;  for  boy  as  he  was,  he  had  a 
man's  nerve,  a  man's  grip,  his  muscles  were  all  steel, 
and  with  all  his  smiling  gentleness  none  of  them 
would  think  of  taking  a  liberty  with  him.  Earlier  in 
the  day  he  had  won  from  a  dozen  competitors  that 


THE    TURF    MEET  173 

most  coveted  of  all  honours  in  the  ranching  country, 
The  Bucking  Belt,  for  he  had  ridden  for  the  full 
hundred  yards  without  "  touching  leather,"  the  out- 
law specially  imported  from  the  other  side. 

As  the  three  men  rode  up  the  rider  of  the  black 
horse  was  heard  to  say,  "  That's  the  fellow  that  nearly 
spilled  me.  And  if  Demon  hadn't  been  mighty  quick 
in  recovering,  it  would  have  been  a  blank  nasty  mess." 

"  I  say,"  said  Macfarren,  in  a  loud,  blustering  tone, 
"  don't  you  know  enough  to  keep  off  a  race-course 
when  a  race  is  being  run  ?  " 

Shock  was  much  taken  aback  at  this  greeting. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  didn't  know  this  was  a 
race-course,  nor  did  I  know  that  a  race  was  on." 

"  The  deuce  you  didn't !    Hadn't  you  eyes  to  see  ?  " 

To  this  Shock  made  no  reply,  but  taking  a  letter 
from  his  pocket  said  quietly,  "You  are  Mr.  Mac- 
farren, I  believe.  I  have  a  letter  for  you  from  Mr. 
Mclntyre." 

At  this  the  other  two  rode  away.  Mr.  Macfarren 
opened  the  letter  with  a  scowl.  As  he  read  the  flush 
on  his  face  deepened. 

"  What  the  deuce  does  this  mean  ?  "  he  burst  out, 
in  an  angry  tone.  "  I  wrote  both  the  Superintendent 
and  Mclntyre  last  week  that  it  was  a  piece  of  folly  to 
plant  a  man  here,  that  we  didn't  require  and  didn't 
want  a  man.  The  community  is  well  supplied  already 
with  church  services,  and  as  far  as  the  Presbyterians 
are  concerned,  they  would  find  the  support  of  a  min- 
ister an  intolerable  burden." 

For  a  moment  or  two  Shock  stood  in  speechless 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

amazement.  It  was  disconcerting  in  the  extreme  to 
be  told  by  the  man  upon  whom  he  had  chiefly  depended 
for  support  and  counsel  that  he  was  not  wanted. 

"  Your  letters  would  not  have  reached  them  in  time, 
I  suppose,"  he  said  at  last. 

"Well,  that's  the  fact,  at  any  rate,"  replied  Mac- 
f arren  roughly.  "  We  won't  want  a  minister.  We 
are  thoroughly  well  supplied.  We  don't  need  one, 
and  we  cannot  support  one." 

He  was  turning  away  without  further  words  when 
he  was  arrested  by  the  sharp  and  peremptory  voice  of 
the  old  gentleman,  who  had  remained  behind  Shock 
during  the  conversation. 

"Macf  arren,  this  gentleman  is  a  stranger,  I  pre- 
sume. Will  you  kindly  present  me  ?  " 

"  Oh — ah — certainly,"  said  Macf  arren,  wheeling 

his  pony  and  looking  rather  ashamed.  "  Mr. " 

looking  at  the  letter. 

"  Macgregor,"  said  Shock  quietly. 

"Mr.  Macgregor,  this  is  General  Brady,  one  of 
our  leading  ranchers." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  make  your  acquaintance,  sir," 
said  General  Brady,  shaking  Shock  warmly  by  the 
hand.  "You  will  find  us  rough  and  wild,  but,  sir,  I 
am  glad  to  say  we  are  not  all  a  blank  lot  of  boors." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Shock,  with  a  sudden  flush 
on  his  face. 

"  Oh — ah — certainly  we  are  glad  to  have  you  visit 
our  town,"  said  Macfarren,  as  if  trying  to  atone  for 
his  former  rudeness.  "  And,  of  course,  it  is  no  fault 
of  yours,  Mr. — ah " 


THE    TURF    MEET  175 

"Macgregor,"  said  the  General  shortly. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Macgregor.  There's  a  deuce  of  a  mis- 
take been  made,  but  I  take  it  you  will  not  suffer. 
There  are  plenty  of — ah — positions — places,  I  be- 
lieve, where  you  will  find — ah — opportunity.  But  if 
you  will  excuse  me,  I  am  busy  for  the  moment.  I 
shall  doubtless  see  you  again  before  you  leave." 

Shock  bowed  in  silence. 

"  Blank  cad ! "  muttered  the  General.  Then  turn- 
ing to  Shock  he  said,  with  hearty  interest  showing  in 
his  tone,  "  Where  do  you  put  up,  Mr.  Macgregor  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know  the  town  at  all.  I  shall  have  to 
look  about  for  a  boarding  place  of  some  kind,  I  sup- 
pose." Shock's  smile  was  rather  uncertain. 

The  General  was  evidently  interested  in  this 
stranger,  and  touched  by  his  forlorn  condition. 

"  The  Royal  there,"  pointing  down  the  street,  "  is 
the  best  hotel.  They  do  you  there  not  so  badly. 
They  may  give  you  accommodation  for  a  night,  but 
I  fancy  it  will  be  rather  difficult  to  find  a  boarding 
house.  But,"  he  added  heartily,  "why  not  come  to 
me  in  the  meantime?  Mrs.  Brady  and  myself  will  be 
most  happy  to  have  you  visit  us  for  a  few  weeks,  till 
you  find  quarters.  I  have,  unfortunately,  an  engage- 
ment that  will  keep  me  late  in  town  to-night,  else  I 
should  insist  on  your  accompanying  me  at  once — an 
engagement  which  I  cannot  well  break.  In  short, 
this  is  our  annual  spring  meeting  of  the  Turf  Associa- 
tion, and  there  is  in  connection  with  it  some  sort  of 
social  function  to  wind  the  thing  up  to-night,  and 
Mrs.  Brady,  being  one  of  the  patronesses,  and  I  my- 


176  THE    PROSPECTOR 

self  being  more  or  less  interested — the  president  of  the 
Association,  indeed — we  cannot  avoid  putting  in  an 
appearance.  And  indeed,  we  enjoy  it,  sir.  We 
thoroughly  enjoy  it.  It  brings  to  our  present  crude 
and  somewhat  limited  life  a  little  bit  of  the  past. 
But  to-morrow  I  shall  be  glad  to  ride  down  for  you, 
sir,  and  bring  you  up  to  my  little  place." 

The  cordial  kindness  of  this  stranger,  upon  whom 
he  had  no  claim,  touched  Shock  greatly. 

"  Thank  you  again,"  he  said.  "  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  much  I  feel  your  kindness.  But  if  you  will  allow 
me,  I  would  rather  accept  your  invitation  later.  I 
feel  I  must  get  settled  to  my  work  at  once.  I  have 
been  long  on  the  way,  and  my  work  is  waiting  me." 
Then,  after  a  pause,  he  added  simply,  "  But  your 
kindness  makes  me  think  of  a  word  I  have  read,  6 1 
was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in.' ' 

The  General  bowed  in  silence,  and  seeing  that 
Shock  was  not  to  be  persuaded,  shook  hands  with  him 
once  more.  "  Come  when  you  will,  sir,  and  stay  as 
long  as  you  can.  The  sooner  you  come  and  the 
longer  you  stay,  the  better  we  shall  be  pleased."  And 
with  another  courteous  bow  the  General  rode  off  to 
attend  to  his  duties  as  President  of  the  Turf  Asso- 
ciation. 

As  Shock  turned  back  to  his  buckboard  he  found 
Ike  waiting  him.  Ike  had  been  an  interested  witness 
of  all  that  had  taken  place,  and  while  his  sympathy 
had  gone  completely  with  Shock  and  against  Mac- 
farren,  he  had  not  been  quite  able  to  shake  off  the 
feeling  of  humiliation  under  which  he  suffered. 


THE     TURF     MEET  177 

"  Say,  stranger,"  he  said,  touching  Shock  on  the 
shoulder,  and  speaking  in  a  low  and  almost  respectful 
tone,  "there  aint  a  man  in  the  Territories  has  ever 
put  the  dust  onto  Ike  Iveson's  pants.  Here's  twenty- 
five  dollars,"  diving  deep  into  his  hip  pocket  and  pull- 
ing out  a  plug  of  tobacco,  a  knife,  and  a  roll  of  bills, 
"which  is  a  standin'  offer  to  any  man  who  can  cir- 
cumvent that  there  trick.  And  I  want  to  say,"  he 
continued,  with  a  subdued  eagerness  in  his  tone,  "  I'll 
make  it  fifty  if  you  do  it  agin." 

Ike's  tone  was  persuasive.  There  was  nothing  of 
resentment  in  it.  It  was  the  tone  of  a  man  who  had 
come  upon  an  interesting  and  puzzling  experience, 
and  was  anxious  to  investigate. 

"No,"  said  Shock,  backing  away  from  Ike,  "I 
cannot  take  that.  Besides,  it  was  not  a  fair  throw." 

"Well,"  said  Ike,  much  mollified,  "that's  so,  that's 
so.  And  I  consider  it  something  handsome  in  you 
say  in'  so.  But  that  offer  stands." 

"All  right,"  said  Shock,  smiling  a  little  more 
broadly.  "  I'll  remember.  And  when  I  want  fifty 
dollars  very  badly  I  may  come  to  you.  But,"  he 
added,  looking  Ike  up  and  down,  "  I'll  have  to  ba 
pretty  hard  pushed  before  I  try." 

"  It's  a  bargain,  stranger,"  said  Ikey,  offering  a 
languid  hand.  Shock  grasped  it  warmly.  A  slight 
tremour  ran  over  Ike's  lanky  frame  as  Shock's  hand 
closed  on  his. 

"  Je-roo-sa-lem! "  he  ejaculated,  drawing  in  his 
breath,  as  Shock  turned  away.  "I'll  be  ready  fer 
you  next  time.  I  prefer  a  grizzly  myself."  He 


178  THE    PROSPECTOR 

looked  down  at  his  finger  nails.  "  Didn't  expect  to 
see  'em  on,"  he  observed.  "  And  say,  boys,"  turning 
to  the  crowd,  "  I  surmise  he's  a  preacher,  a  blank  fire- 
escape." 

At  once  Ike  became  the  object  of  various  comments. 

"  A  preacher,  Ike  ?  Say,  you'll  have  to  change 
your  ways  and  go  to  meetin'." 

"What's  Ikey's  church,  anyway?" 

"  Don't  know  as  I  ever  heard." 

"  Oh,  Ikey  aint  mean,  he  treats  'em  all  the  same." 

"  Well,  I  guess  Ikey  '11  have  to  dust  toward  the  sky- 
line." 

Ike  listened  for  a  time  unmoved,  and  then  drawled 
out  quietly,  "  What  I  want  to  remark  to  you  jay  birds 
is,  that  if  ever  you  have  any  misunderstandin'  with 
that  there  ascension  ladder,  he'll  make  you  say  more 
prayers  in  a  minute  than  you've  said  for  the  last  ten 
years  of  your  mortal  life.  And  if  ever  he  gits  after 
you  the  only  thing  that'll  save  you  will  be  your 
dust." 

So  saying  Ike  slouched  off  down  the  street,  keeping 
his  eye  on  Shock's  buckboard.  He  watched  him  go 
into  the  Royal  and  in  a  few  minutes  come  out  again, 
followed  him  to  the  International,  and  soon  after  to 
the  Ranchers'  Roost. 

"  Guess  he's  purty  nigh  tangled  up  now,"  said 
Ikey,  with  considerable  satisfaction.  He  had  a  scheme 
of  his  own  in  mind.  "  There  aint  a  six-foot  hole  in 
this  hull  town,  and  he'd  take  purty  nigh  seven.  Now, 
what's  his  next  move  ?  " 

Shock  appeared  undecided.     There  was  evidently 


THE    TURF    MEET  179 

no  place  for  him  in  the  town.  He  had  a  deepening 
sense  of  being  not  wanted.  The  town  was  humming 
with  life,  but  in  that  life  there  was  no  place  for  him. 
Awakening  a  strange  sense  of  fellowship  the  words 
came  to  him,  "He  was  rejected  of  men." 


XI 

"  I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  AND  YE  TOOK  ME  IN  " 

A  Shock  stood,  uncertain  as  to  his  next  move, 
he  noticed  that  out  of  the  confused  mingling 
of  men  and  horses  order  began  to  appear. 
The  course  was  once  more  being  cleared. 
The  final  heat,  which  the  Swallow  had  won,  and  which 
had  been  protested  by  the  owner  of  the  Demon,  on  the 
ground  that  his  course  had  been  blocked  by  Shock  and 
his  cayuse,  was  to  be  run  again.  Shock  was  too  much 
occupied  with  his  own  disappointment  and  uncer- 
tainty to  take  much  interest  in  the  contest  that  was 
the  occasion  of  such  intense  excitement  to  the  throngs 
on  the  street.  With  languid  indifference  he  watched 
the  course  being  cleared  and  the  competitors  canter 
back  to  the  starting  point.  Behind  them  followed  a 
cavalcade  of  horsemen  on  all  sorts  of  mounts,  from 
the  shaggy  little  cayuse,  with  diminishing  rump,  to 
the  magnificent  thoroughbred  stallion,  stall-fed  and 
shining.  In  the  final  heat  it  was  the  custom  for  all 
the  horsemen  in  the  crowd  to  join  at  a  safe  distance 
behind  the  contestants,  in  a  wild  and  tumultuous 
scramble. 

Shock's  attention  was  arrested  and  his  interest 
quickened  by  the  appearance  of  Ike  in  the  crowd, 
riding  a  hard-looking,  bony,  buckskin  broncho,  which 
he  guessed  to  be  Slipper. 

180 


"  I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  YE  TOOK  ME  IN  "  181 

In  a  short  time  the  Demon  and  the  Swallow  were 
in  their  places.  Far  behind  them  bunched  the  motley 
crowd  of  horsemen. 

The  start  was  to  be  by  the  pistol  shot,  and  from 
the  scratch.  So  intense  was  the  stillness  of  the  excited 
crowd  that,  although  the  starting  point  was  more 
than  half  a  mile  out  on  the  prairie,  the  crack  of  the 
pistol  was  clearly  heard. 

In  immediate  echo  the  cry  arose,  "  They're  off ! 
They're  off ! "  and  necks  were  strained  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  first  that  should  appear  where  the 
course  took  a  slight  turn. 

In  a  few  seconds  the  two  leading  horses  are  seen, 
the  riders  low  over  their  necks,  and  behind  them, 
almost  hidden  by  the  dust,  the  crowd  of  yelling, 
waving,  shooting  horsemen. 

The  Demon  is  leading,  the  Swallow  close  on  his 
flank.  As  they  come  within  clear  view  the  experienced 
eyes  of  the  crowd  see  that  while  the  Demon,  though  as 
yet  untouched  by  whip  or  spur,  is  doing  all  that  is  in 
him,  the  Swallow  is  holding  him  easily.  On  all  sides 
the  men  of  the  west  raise  a  paean  of  victory,  "  The 
Swallow!  The  Swallow!  Good  boy,  Kiddie!  Let 
her  go !  Let  her  go !  "  "  You've  got  him  standing !  " 
"Bully  boy!" 

Fifty  yards  from  the  winning  post  The  Kid  leans 
over  his  mare's  neck  and  shakes  out  his  fluttering 
reins.  Like  the  bird  whose  name  she  bears  the  Swal- 
low darts  to  the  front,  a  length  ahead.  In  vain  the 
Captain  calls  to  the  Demon,  plying  fiercely  whip  and 
spur.  With  nostrils  distended  and  blood-red,  with 


182  THE    PROSPECTOR 

eyes  starting  from  their  sockets,  and  mouth  foaming 
bloody  froth,  the  noble  animal  responds  and  essays 
his  final  attempt. 

It  is  a  magnificent  effort.  Slowly  he  creeps  up  to 
the  Swallow's  flank,  but  beyond  that  he  cannot  make 
an  inch,  and  so  they  remain  to  the  winning  post. 

Down  the  street  behind  the  leaders,  yelling  wild 
oaths,  shooting  off  their  guns,  flinging  hats  in  the 
air,  and  all  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  thunders  the 
pursuing  cavalcade. 

Just  as  the  Swallow  shoots  to  the  front,  out  from 
the  cloud  of  dust  behind,  with  his  cowboy  hat  high  in 
one  hand  and  his  reins  fluttering  loosely  in  the  other, 
Ike  emerges  on  his  beloved  Slipper.  At  every  bound 
the  buckskin  gains  upon  the  runners  in  front,  but 
when  level  with  the  Demon,  Ike  steadier  iiim  down, 
for  he  would  not  be  guilty  of  the  bad  taste  of 
"  shoving  his  nose  into  another  man's  fight,"  nor 
would  he  deprive  the  little  mare,  who  carried  the  for- 
tunes of  the  men  of  the  west,  of  the  glory  of  !ser 
victory. 

The  riot  that  follows  the  race  passes  description. 
The  men  from  the  west  go  mad.  About  The  Kid 
and  his  little  mare  they  surge  in  a  wave  of  frantic 
enthusiasm.  Into  the  Ranchers'  Roost  they  carry  the 
rider  to  wash  down  the  dust,  while  as  many  as  can 
find  room  for  a  hand  get  vigorously  to  work  upon  the 
Swallow. 

After  the  riot  had  somewhat  subsided  and  the  street 
had  become  partially  clear,  side  by  side,  threading 
their  way  through  the  crowd,  appeared  the  two  com- 


"I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  YE  TOOK  ME  IN  "  183 

petitors  for  the  Cup.  On  all  sides  they  were  greeted 
with  renewed  cheers,  and  under  the  excitement  of  the 
hour  they  abandoned  the  customary  reserve  of  the 
cowboy,  and  began  performing  what  seemed  to  Shock 
impossible  feats  of  horsemanship. 

"  I  bet  you  I'll  ride  her  into  the  Roost,  Captain," 
cried  The  Kiddie. 

"  Done,  for  the  drinks ! "  replied  the  Captain. 

The  boy  cantered  his  mare  across  the  street. 

"  Out  of  the  way  there !  "  he  cried.  "  Out  of  the 
way,  you  fellows !  I'm  coming !  " 

As  he  spoke  he  put  the  little  mare  straight  at  the 
flight  of  steps  leading  up  to  the  door  of  the  Roost. 
The  crowd  parted  hastily,  but  the  Swallow  balked 
and  swerved,  and  but  for  the  fine  horsemanship  of  the 
rider  he  would  have  been  thrown. 

With  an  oath,  the  Kid  took  hold  of  his  horse 
again,  and  riding  carelessly,  faced  her  once  more  at 
the  steps.  But  again  she  plunged,  reared,  swung 
round,  and  set  off  at  a  run  down  the  street. 

The  lad  rode  her  easily  back,  brought  her  up  to 
the  steps  at  a  walk,  quieted  her  with  voice  and  hand, 
and  then,  cantering  across  the  street,  came  back  again 
at  an  easy  lope  to  the  steps.  The  mare  made  as  if  to 
balk  again. 

"Up,  girl!"  cried  the  boy,  lifting  her  with  the 
rein ;  and  then,  as  she  rose,  touching  her  with  the  spur, 
Like  a  cat  the  little  mare  clambered  up  the  steps,  and 
before  she  could  change  her  mind  she  found  herself 
through  the  door,  standing  in  the  bar-room  with  her 
rider  on  her  back. 


184  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Through  the  outer  entrance  thronged  the  crowd 
of  men,  giving  vent  to  their  admiration  in  yells  and 
oaths,  and  lining  up  at  the  bar  waited  for  the  pay- 
ment of  the  bet. 

Shock,  who  had  been  singularly  attracted  by  the 
handsome,  boyish  face  of  the  rider,  walked  up  to  the 
door  and  stood  looking  in,  his  great  form  towering 
above  the  crowd  of  men  that  swayed  and  jostled,  chaf- 
fing and  swearing,  inside.  As  he  stood  looking  at  the 
boy,  sitting  his  horse  with  such  careless  grace,  and 
listening  with  pleased  and  smiling  face  to  the  varied 
and  picturesque  profanity  in  which  the  crowd  were 
expressing  their  admiration,  the  words  of  his  Con- 
vener came  to  his  mind,  "  They  may  not  want  you, 
but  they  need  you." 

"  Yes,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  they  need  me,  or 
someone  better." 

A  great  pity  for  the  lad  filled  his  heart  and  over- 
flowed from  his  eyes. 

The  boy  caught  the  look.  With  a  gay  laugh  he 
cried,  "  I  would  drink  to  your  very  good  health,  sir !  " 
his  high,  clear  voice  penetrating  the  din  and  bringing 
the  crowd  to  silence.  "  But  why  carry  so  grave  a  face 
at  such  a  joyous  moment?  "  He  lifted  his  glass  over 
his  head  and  bowed  low  to  Shock. 

Arrested  by  his  words,  the  crowd  turned  their  eyes 
toward  the  man  that  stood  in  the  door,  waiting  in 
silence  for  his  reply. 

A  quick  flush  rose  to  Shock's  face,  but  without 
moving  his  eyes  from  the  gay,  laughing  face  of  the 
boy,  he  said  in  a  clear,  steady  voice,  "  I  thank  you, 


"I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  YE  TOOK  ME  IN  "  185 

sir,  for  your  courtesy,  and  I  ask  your  pardon  if  my 
face  was  grave.  I  was  thinking  of  your  mother." 

As  if  someone  had  stricken  him  the  boy  swayed 
over  his  horse's  neck,  but  in  a  moment  recovering 
himself  he  sat  up  straight,  and  lifting  high  his  glass, 
he  said  reverently,  as  if  he  had  been  toasting  the 
Queen :  "  Gentlemen,  my  mother !  God  bless  her !  " 

"  God  bless  her !  "  echoed  the  men. 

Drinking  off  the  glass  he  dismounted  and,  followed 
by  the  cheers  of  the  crowd,  led  his  horse  out  of  the 
room  and  down  the  steps,  and  rode  away. 

Meantime  Shock  went  in  search  of  the  doctor.  In 
a  corner  of  the  International  bar  he  found  him  in  a 
drunken  sleep.  After  vain  efforts  to  wake  him,  with- 
out more  ado  Shock  lifted  him  in  his  arms,  carried 
him  out  to  the  buckboard  and  drove  away,  followed 
by  the  jibes  and  compliments  of  the  astonished  crowd. 

But  what  to  do  with  him  was  the  question.  There 
was  no  room  for  himself,  much  less  for  his  charge, 
in  any  of  the  hptels  or  stopping  places. 

"  May  as  well  begin  now,"  Shock  said  to  himself, 
and  drove  out  to  a  little  bluff  of  poplars  at  the  river 
bank  near  the  town,  and  prepared  to  camp. 

He  disposed  of  the  doctor  by  laying  him  in  the 
back  of  his  buckboard,  covered  with  the  buffalo.  He 
unhitched  and  tethered  the  pony,  and,  according  to 
his  crude  notions  of  what  a  camp  should  be,  began  to 
make  his  preparations.  With  very  considerable  diffi- 
culty, he  first  of  all  started  a  fire. 

"  Hello !    Rather  chilly  for  campin'  out  yit?  " 

He  looked  up  and  saw  Ike. 


186  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"I  guess  you  aint  lived  much  out  of  doors,"  con- 
tinued his  visitor,  glancing  at  the  apology  for  a  fire, 
and  noticing  the  absence  of  everything  in  camp- 
making  that  distinguishes  the  experienced  camper. 

"  No,  this  is  my  first  camp,"  said  Shock.  "  But 
I  suppose  every  man  must  make  a  beginning." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Ike,  "when  he's  got  to.  But  I 
have  a  lingerin'  suspicion  that  you'd  be  better  inside 
to-night.  It  aint  goin'  to  be  pleasant." 

"  Oh,  I'll  be  all  right,"  replied  Shock  cheerfully. 
"  I  have  a  small  tent,  a  couple  of  coats,  a  pair  of 
blankets,  and  my  pony  has  got  his  oats." 

"  Yes,"  drawled  Ike,  regarding  the  cayuse  with 
contemptuous  eyes,  "  he's  all  right.  You  can't  kill 
them  fellers.  But,  as  I  remarked,  you'd  be  better 
inside." 

He  walked  around  the  buckboard  and  his  eyes  fell 
upon  the  doctor. 

"What  the "  Ike  checked  himself,  either  out 

of  deference  to  Shock's  profession  or  more  likely  from 
sheer  amazement. 

He  turned  down  the  buffalo,  gazed  at  the  sleeping 
figure  with  long  and  grave  interest,  then  lifting  his 
head  he  remarked  with  impressive  solemnity,  "  Well, 
I  be  chawed  and  swallered!  You  have  got  him,  eh? 
Now,  how  did  you  do  it?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Shock,  "  it  was  not  difficult.  I  found 
him  asleep  in  the  International.  I  carried  him  out, 
and  there  he  is." 

"  Say,"  said  Ike,  looking  at  Shock  with  dawning 
admiration  in  his  eyes,  "  you're  a  bird !  Is  there  any- 


«I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  YE  TOOK  ME  IN  "  187 

thin'  else  you  want  in  that  town?  Guess  not,  else  it 
would  be  here.  The  General  said  you'd  kidnap  him, 
and  he  was  right.  Now,  what  you  goin'  to  do  when  he 
comes  to?  There  aint  much  shelter  in  this  bluff,  and 
when  he  wakes  he'll  need  someone  to  set  up  with  him, 
sure.  He's  a  terror,  a  dog-goned  terror !  " 

"  Oh,  we'll  manage,"  said  Shock  lightly.  "  I  mean 
to  start  early  in  the  morning." 

"  Before  he  gets  up,  eh?  As  I  remarked  before, 
you're  a  bird !  " 

For  some  moments  Ike  hung  about  the  camp, 
poking  the  fire,  evidently  somewhat  disturbed  in  his 
mind.  Finally  he  said  in  a  hesitating  tone,  "  It  aint 
much  to  offer  any  man,  but  my  shack  kin  hold  two 
men  as  well  as  one,  and  I  guess  three  could  squeeze 
in,  specially  if  the  third  is  in  the  condition  he's  in," 
nodding  toward  the  doctor.  "  We  kin  lay  him  on 
the  floor.  Of  course,  it  aint  done  up  with  no  picters 
and  hangin's,  but  it  keeps  out  the  breeze,  and  there 
aint  no  bugs,  you  bet." 

Shock's  experience  of  Western  shacks  had  not  been 
sufficiently  varied  and  extensive  to  enable  him  to 
appreciate  to  the  full  this  last  commendation  of  Ike's. 

Ike's  hesitation  in  making  the  offer  determined 
Shock. 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said  cordially.  "  I 
shall  be  delighted  to  go  with  you." 

"All  right,  let's  git,"  said  Ike,  proceeding  to  hitch 
up  the  pony,  while  Shock  gathered  his  stuff  together. 
In  a  few  minutes  they  were  ready  to  start. 

"  Guess  he'll  ride  comfortable  where  he  is,"  said 


188  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Ike.  "  You  can't  kill  a  drunk  man.  Strange, 
aint  it?  " 

It  was  growing  dusk  as  they  drove  through  the 
town,  but  the  streets,  the  hotel  stoops,  and  bars  were 
filled  with  men  in  various  stages  of  intoxication.  As 
they  caught  sight  of  Ike  and  recognised  his  com- 
panion, they  indulged  themselves  in  various  facetious 
remarks. 

"Hello,  Ike.     Goin'  to  meetin'?" 

"  No,"  retorted  Ike  shortly.  "  Goin'  to  school  f  er 
manners.  Want  to  come?  " 

"  Ikey's  got  religion.  Caught  on  to  the  fire-escape 
you  bet." 

"  No,  he's  goin'  to  learn  that  rasslin'  trick." 

"  Ikey's  showin'  the  stranger  the  town.  He's  on 
for  a  bust,  you  bet." 

"  Blank  lot  of  jay  birds,"  said  Ike  grimly,  in  a 
low  tone.  "I'll  see  'em  later.  You'd  think  they'd 
never  seen  a  stranger  before." 

"  That  is  all  for  me,  I  suppose,  Ike,"  said  Shock 
apologetically. 

"  Don't  you  worry.  It  won't  give  me  any  grey 
hair."  Ike  emphasised  his  indifference  by  tilting  his 
hat  till  it  struck  on  the  extreme  back  of  his  head,  and 
lounging  back  in  his  seat  with  his  feet  on  the  dash- 
board. 

"  They  all  seen  you  givin'  me  that  h'ist  this  after- 
noon," he  continued,  "  and  they  can't  get  over  that 
we  aint  fightin'.  And,"  he  added,  hitting  the  hub  of 
the  wheel  with  a  stream  of  tobacco  juice,  "  it  is  a 
rather  remarkable  reminiscence." 


"I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  YE  TOOK  ME  IN  "  189 

Ike  had  a  fondness  for  words  not  usually  current 
among  the  cowboys,  and  in  consequence  his  English 
was  more  or  less  reminiscent,  and  often  phonetic 
rather  than  etymoligical. 

Ike's  shack  stood  at  the  further  side  of  the  town. 
Upon  entering  Shock  discovered  that  it  needed  no 
apology  for  its  appearance.  The  board  walls  were 
adorned  with  illustrations  from  magazines  and  papers, 
miscellaneous  and  without  taint  of  prejudice,  the 
Sunday  Magazine  and  the  Police  Gazette  having 
places  of  equal  honour.  On  the  wall,  too,  were  nailed 
heads  of  mountain  sheep  and  goats,  of  wapiti  and 
other  deer,  proclaiming  Ike  a  hunter. 

Everything  in  the  shack  was  conspicuously  clean, 
from  the  pots,  pans,  and  cooking  utensils,  which  hung 
on  a  row  of  nails  behind  the  stove,  to  the  dish-cloth, 
which  was  spread  carefully  to  dry  over  the  dish-pan. 
Had  Shock's  experience  of  bachelors'  shacks  and 
bachelors'  dishes  been  larger,  he  would  have  been  more 
profoundly  impressed  with  that  cooking  outfit,  and 
especially  with  the  dish-cloth.  As  it  was,  the  dish- 
cloth gave  Shock  a  sense  of  security  and  comfort. 

Depositing  the  doctor  upon  a  buffalo  skin  on  the 
floor  in  the  corner,  with  a  pillow  under  his  head,  they 
proceeded  to  their  duties,  Ike  to  prepare  the  evening 
meal,  and  Shock  to  unpack  his  stuff,  wondering  all 
the  while  how  this  cowboy  had  come  to  hunt  him  up 
and  treat  him  with  such  generous  hospitality. 

This  mystery  was  explained  as  they  sat  about  the 
fire  after  the  tea-dishes  had  been  most  carefully 
washed  and  set  away,  Ike  smoking  and  Shock  musing. 


190  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  That  old  skunk  rather  turned  you  down,  I  guess,** 
remarked  Ike,  after  a  long  silence ;  "  that  old  Mac- 
farren,  I  mean,"  in  answer  to  Shock's  look  of  en- 
quiry. 

"  I  was  surprised,  I  confess,"  replied  Shock.  "  You 
see,  I  was  led  to  believe  that  he  was  waiting  for  me, 
and  I  was  depending  upon  him.  Now,  I  really  do  not 
know  what  to  think." 

"  Movin'  out,  perhaps  ?  "  said  Ike,  casting  a  sharp 
look  at  him  from  out  of  his  half -closed  eyes. 

"  What  ?  Leave  this  post,  do  you  mean  ?  "  said 
Shock,  his  indignant  surprise  showing  in  his  tone. 
"  No,  sir.  At  least,  not  till  my  chief  says  so." 

A  gleam  shot  out  from  under  Ike's  lowered  eye- 
lids. 

"  The  old  fellow  '11  make  it  hot  for  you,  if  you  don't 
move.  Guess  he  expects  you  to  move,"  said  Ike 
quietly. 

"  Move ! "  cried  Shock  again,  stirred  at  the  remem- 
brance of  Macfarren's  treatment  that  afternoon. 
"  Would  you?  " 

"  See  him  blanked  first,"  said  Ike  quietly. 

"  So  will  I,"  said  Shock  emphatically.  "  I  mean," 
correcting  himself  hastily,  "  see  him  saved  first." 

"Eh?  Oh — well,  guess  he  needs  some.  He  needs 
manners,  anyhow.  He'll  worry  you,  I  guess.  You 
see,  he  surmises  he's  the  entire  bunch,  but  a  man's 
opinion  of  himself  don't  really  affect  the  size  of  his 
hat  band." 

Shock  felt  the  opportunity  to  be  golden  for  the 
gathering  of  information  about  men  and  things  in 


"I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  YE  TOOK  ME  IN."  191 

the  country  where  his  work  was  to  be  done.  He  felt 
that  to  see  life  through  the  eyes  of  a  man  like  Ike, 
who  represented  a  large  and  potent  element  in  the 
community,  would  be  valuable  indeed. 

It  was  difficult  to  make  Ike  talk,  but  by  careful 
suggestions,  rather  than  by  questioning,  Ike  was 
finally  led  to  talk,  and  Shock  began  to  catch  glimpses 
of  a  world  quite  new  to  him,  and  altogether  wonderful. 
He  made  the  astounding  discovery  that  things  that 
had  all  his  life  formed  the  basis  of  his  thinking  were 
to  Ike  and  his  fellows  not  so  much  unimportant  as 
irrelevant;  and  as  for  the  great  spiritual  verities 
which  lay  at  the  root  of  all  Shock's  mental  and, 
indeed,  physical  activities,  furnishing  motive  and 
determining  direction,  these  to  Ike  were  quite  remote 
from  all  practical  living.  What  had  God  to  do  with 
rounding  up  cattle,  or  broncho-busting,  or  horse-trad- 
ing? True,  the  elemental  virtues  of  justice,  truth, 
charity,  and  loyalty ,  were  as  potent  over  Ike  as  over 
Shock,  but  theirt  moral  standards  were  so  widely  dif- 
ferent that  these  very  virtues  could  hardly  be  classi- 
fied in  the  same  categories.  Truth  was  sacred,  but 
lying  was  one  thing  and  horse-swapping  another,  and 
if  a  man  was  "  white  to  the  back  "  what  more  would 
you  ask,  even  though  at  poker  he  could  clean  you  out 
of  your  whole  outfit? 

Hitherto,  a  man  who  paid  no  respect  to  the  decen- 
cies of  religion  Shock  had  regarded  as  "  a  heathen 
man  and  a  publican,"  but  with  Ike  religion,  with  all 
its  great  credos,  with  all  its  customs,  had  simply  no 
bearing.  Shock  had  not  talked  long  with  Ike  until 


192  THE    PROSPECTOR 

he  began  to  feel  that  he  must  readjust  not  only  his 
whole  system  of  theology,  but  even  his  moral  stand- 
ards, and  he  began  to  wonder  how  the  few  sermons 
and  addresses  he  had  garnered  from  his  ministry  in 
the  city  wards  would  do  for  Ike  and  his  people.  He 
was  making  the  discovery  that  climate  changes  the 
complexion,  not  only  of  men,  but  of  habits  of  thought 
and  action. 

As  Shock  was  finding  his  way  to  new  adjustments 
and  new  standards  he  was  incidentally  finding  his  way 
into  a  new  feeling  of  brotherhood  as  well.  The  lines 
of  cleavage  which  had  hitherto  determined  his  inter- 
ests and  affinities  were  being  obliterated.  The  ficti- 
tious and  accidental  were  fading  out  under  this  new 
atmosphere,  and  the  great  lines  of  sheer  humanity 
were  coming  to  stand  out  with  startling  clearness.  Up 
to  this  time  creed  and  class  had  largely  determined 
both  his  interest  and  his  responsibility,  but  now,  apart 
from  class  and  creed,  men  became  interesting,  and  for 
men  he  began  to  feel  responsibility.  He  realised 
as  never  before  that  a  man  was  the  great  asset 
of  the  universe — not  his  clothes,  material,  social  or 
religious. 

It  was  this  new  feeling  of  interest  and  responsibility 
that  made  him  ask,  "  Who  was  that  lad  that  rode  the 
winning  horse  to-day?  " 

"That  chap?  "replied  Ike.  "  He's  my  boss.  The 
Kid,  they  call  him." 

Men  of  laconic  speech  say  much  by  tone  and  ges- 
ture, and  often  by  silence.  In  Ike's  tone  Shock  read 
contempt,  admiration,  pity. 


« I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  YE  TOOK  ME  IN  "  193 

"A  rancher?"  he  enquired. 

"  Well,  he's  got  a  ranch,  and  horses  and  cattle  on 

it,  like  the  rest  of  'em.  But  ranchin' "  Ike's 

silence  was  more  than  sufficient. 

"  Well,"  said  Shock,  with  admiring  emphasis,  *'  he 
seems  to  be  able  to  ride,  Anyway." 

"Ride!  I  should  surmise!  Ride!  That  kid  could 
ride  anythin'  from  a  he-goat  to  a  rampagin',  highpot- 
topotamus.  Why,  look  here ! "  Ike  waxed  enthusi- 
astic. "  He's  been  two  years  in  this  country,  and  he's 
got  us  all  licked  good  and  quiet.  Why,  he  could  give 
points  to  any  cattle-man  in  Alberta." 

"  Well,  what's  the  matter  with  him?  " 

"Money!"  said  Ike  wrathfully.  "Some  blamed 
fool  uncle  at  home — he's  got  no  parents,  I  under- 
stand— keeps  a-sendin'  him  money.  Consequently, 
every  remittance  he  cuts  things  loose,  with  everyone 
in  sight  a-helpin'  him." 

"  What  a  shame !  "  cried  Shock.  "  He  has  a  nice 
face.  I  just  like  to  look  at  him." 

"  That's  right !  "  answered  Ike,  with  no  waning  of 
his  enthusiasm.  "  He's  white — but  he's  soft.  Makes 
me  so  blank  mad!  He  don't  know  they're  playin* 
him,  and  makin'  him  pay  for  the  game.  The  only 
question  is,  will  he  hold  out  longer'n  his  money." 

"Why!  hasn't  he  any  friends  here  who  would  re- 
monstrate with  him?  " 

"  Remonstrate !  Remonstrate !  "  Ike  rolled  the 
word  under  his  tongue  as  if  it  felt  good.  "  You  try 
to  remonstrate,  and  see  him  look  at  you,  and  then 
smile,  till  you  feel  like  a  cluckin'  hen  that  has  lost  her 


194-  THE    PROSPECTOR 

nest.  Not  any  for  me,  thank  you.  But  it's  a  blank 
pity!  He's  a  white  kiddie,  he  is." 

"  And  that  friend  of  his  who  was  riding  with  him — 
who  is  he?  "  , 

"Harricomb — Captain  Hal  Harricomb,  they  call 
him.  Good  sort  of  fellow,  too,  but  lazy — and  con- 
siderable money.  Goin'  at  a  pretty  good  lick.  Wife 
pulls  him  up,  I  guess.  Good  thing  for  him,  too. 
Lives  up  by  the  General's — old  gent,  you  know,  sat 
by  when  you  set  me  down  out  yonder.  Mighty  slick, 
too.  Wasn't  on  to  you,  though." 

"  No,"  Shock  hastened  to  say,  "  it  was  a  flukey  of 
course.  General  Brady,  you  mean.  Yes,  he  was  very 
kind,  indeed." 

"  Oh,  the  General's  a  gentleman,  you  bet !  Horse 
ranch.  Not  very  big,  but  makes  it  go." 

"  Could  not  a  man  like  the  General,  now,  help  that 
young  fellow— what  is  his  name?  " 

"His  name?  Well,  he  goes  by  *  The  Kid.'  His 
name's  Stanton,  I  think.  Yes,  Stanton — Vic  Stan- 
ton.  Though  he  never  gets  it." 

"Well,  could  not  the  General  help  him?"  re- 
peated Shock. 

"  Help  The  Kid?  Not  he,  nor  anyone  else.  When 
a  horse  with  blood  in  him  gets  a-goin',  why,  he's  got 
to  go  till  his  wind  gives  out,  unless  you  throw  him 
right  down,  and  that's  resky.  You've  got  to  wait 
his  time.  Then's  your  chance.  And  that  reminds 
me,"  said  Ike,  rising  and  knocking  the  ashes  out  of 
his  pipe,  "  that  I've  got  a  job  on  hand.  There'll  be 
doin's  to-night  there  after  the  happy  time  is  over." 


"  I  WAS  A  STRANGER,  YE  TOOK  ME  IN  "  19* 

Shock  looked  mystified. 

"  They'll  get  the  ladies  off,  you  know,  and  then 
the  fun'll  begin." 

"Fun?" 

Ike  winked  a  long,  significant  wink.  "  Yes.  Lit'- 
rary  Society,  you  know.  A  little  game  in  the  back 
room." 

"  And  are  you  going  to  play,  Ike  ?  " 

"  Not  to-night,  thank  you.  I  aint  no  saint,  but  I 
aint  a  blank  fool  altogether,  and  to-night  I  got  to 
keep  level.  To-day's  the  boss's  remittance  day.  He's 
got  his  cheque,  I've  heard,  and  they're  goin5  to  roll 
him." 

"Roll  him?" 

"  Yes,  clean  him  out.  So  I  surmise  it'd  be  wise  for 
me  to  be  on  hand." 

"  Why,  what  have  you  got  to  do  with  it,  Ike  ?  " 

Ike  paused  for  a  few  moments,  while  he  filled  his 
pipe,  preparatory  to  going  out. 

"Well,  that's  what  I  don't  right  know.  It  aint 
any  of  my  own  business.  Course  he's  my  boss,  but  it 
aint  that.  Somehow,  that  Kiddie  has  got  a  hitch  onto 
my  innards,  and  I  can't  let  him  get  away.  He's  got 
such  a  blank  slick  way  with  him  that  he  makes  you 
feel  like  doin'  the  things  you  hate  to  do.  Why, 
when  he  smiles  at  you  the  sun  begins  to  shine. 
That's  so.  Why,  you  saw  that  race  this  after- 
noon ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  last  heat." 

"  Well,  did  you  observe  Slipper  come  in?  " 

"Well,  yes,  I  did.     And  I  could  not  understand 


196  THE    PROSPECTOR 

why  Slipper  was  not  running.  Why  didn't  you  run 
him,  Ike?" 

"Why?"  said  Ike,  "that's  what  I  don't  know. 
There  aint  nothin'  on  four  legs  with  horsehide  on  in 
these  here  Territories  that  can  make  Slipper  take 
dust,  but  then — well,  I  knowed  he  had  money  on  the 
Swallow.  But  I  guess  I  must  be  goin9." 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  fall  down  somewheres  and  go  to  sleep. 
You  see  lots  of  things  when  you're  asleep,  providin* 
you  know  how  to  accomplish  it." 

"  Shall  I  go  with  you?  "  asked  Shock. 

Ike  regarded  him  curiously. 

"  Guess  you  wouldn't  care  to  be  mixed  up  in  this 
kind  of  thing.  But  blame  it,  if  I  don't  think  you'd 
stay  with  it  if  it  was  in  your  line,  which  it  aint." 

"  But  suppose  you  get  into  difficulty." 

"  Well,"  said  Ike,  smiling  a  slow  smile,  "  when  I 
want  you  I'll  send  for  you,"  and  with  that  he  passed 
out  into  the  night. 


xn 

HIS  KEEPER 

TILL  long  after  midnight  Shock  sat  over  the 
fire  pondering  the  events  of  the  day,  and  try- 
ing to  make  real  to  himself  the  strange  series 
of  happenings  that  had  marked  his  introduc- 
tion to  his  work  in  this  country.     His  life  for  the 
last  month  had  been  so  unlike  anything  in  his  past 
as  to  seem  quite  unnatural. 

As  he  sat  thus  musing  over  the  past  and  planning 
for  the  future,  a  knock  came  to  the  door,  and  almost 
immediately  there  came  in  a  little  man,  short  and 
squat,  with  humped  shoulders,  bushy,  grizzled  hair 
and  beard,  through  which  peered  sharp  little  black 
eyes.  His  head  and  face  and  eyes  made  one  think  of 
a  little  Scotch  terrier. 

"Ye're  the  meenister?"  he  said  briefly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Shock,  greatly  surprised  at  his  vis- 
itor, but  warming  to  the  Scotch  voice. 

"  Aye.     Ye're  wanted." 

"Wanted?     By  whom?" 

16  The  man  that  lives  in  this  hoose.  He's  deein% 
I'm  thinkin'." 

"  Dying ! "  said  Shock,  starting  up  and  seizing  his 
hat.  "What  like?" 

"  Aye,  Ike.     He's  verra  ill." 
197 


198  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"Go  on,  then,"  said  Shock.     "Quick!" 

"Aye,  quick  it  is."  And  the  little  man,  without 
further  words,  plunged  into  the  darkness. 

A  few  minutes'  swift  walk  through  the  black  night 
brought  them  to  the  Ranchers'  Roost.  There,  in  a 
corner  of  the  room  at  the  back  of  the  bar,  he  found 
Ike  lying  almost  unconscious,  and  apparently  very  ill. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Shock,  dropping 
on  his  knees  beside  Ike.  But  Ike  seemed  stupefied, 
and  mumbled  a  few  incoherent  words.  Shock  caught 
the  words,  "the  gang,"  and  "dope." 

He  looked  in  an  agony  of  helplessness  at  the  little 
Scotchman,  who  stood  by  looking  down  upon  the  sick 
man  with  face  quite  unmoved. 

"  Do  you  know  what  he  says  ?  "  enquired  Shock. 

"He's  no  sayin'  much,"  said  the  the  little  Scotch- 
man calmly. 

Again  Ike  tried  to  speak,  and  this  time  Shock 
caught  the  words,  "  The  boss — gang's  got  him — 
Smiley  Simmons — back  room — fetch  him." 

"What  does  he  mean?"  cried  Shock. 

"  It's  ha-r-r-d  to  tell  that,"  said  the  little  Scotch- 
man. "He's  talkin'  about  some  boss  or  other." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know  what  that  means.  He  is  re- 
ferring to  his  boss,  young  Stanton." 

"  Oh,  ay ! "  said  the  little  Scotchman,  with  a  light 
breaking  on  his  face.  "I  saw  the  bodies.  They've 
gaen  o'er  to  the  creature  Simmons'." 

"  Show  me  the  way,"  said  Shock.     "  Quick  5 " 

"Come,  then,"  said  the  little  Scotchman,  leading 
once  more  into  the  darkness. 


HIS    KEEPER  199 

Some  distance  down  the  street  stood  Smiley — or  as 
some  preferred  to  call  him  Slimy — Simmons'  general 
store.  At  the  back  of  the  store  there  was  a  side  door. 

"They're  in  yonder,"  said  the  little  Scotchman, 
and  disappeared. 

Shock  knocked  at  the  door,  but  there  was  no  re- 
sponse. He  turned  the  handle,  opened  the  door,  and 
walking  in  found  himself  in  the  back  of  the  store,  in 
a  room  dimly  lighted  by  a  hanging  lantern.  Seated 
on  a  stool  at  a  high  desk,  evidently  busy  with  his 
ledger,  sat  a  man,  tall,  slender,  and  wiry.  He  had  a 
sharp,  thin  face,  with  high  forehead,  protruding  nose, 
and  receding  chin.  The  moment  he  spoke  Shock  dis- 
covered at  once  how  it  was  he  came  by  his  nickname. 
His  smile  was  the  most  striking  characteristic  of  his 
manner.  Indeed,  so  permanent  and  pervasive  did  his 
smile  appear,  that  it  seemed  almost  to  be  a  fixed  fea- 
ture of  his  face. 

He  came  forward  to  Shock,  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  Ah,  good  evening,"  he  said,  in  a  most  insinuating 
voice.  "  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Shock,  instinctively  shrinking  from 
him.  "  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Stanton." 

"  Mr.  Stanton — Mr.  Stanton  ?  Let  me  see.  I  saw 
Mr.  Stanton  some  hours  ago.  Let  me  think.  Was 
it  at  the  International?  Yes,  I  think  it  was  the  In- 
ternational. No,  in  the  Royal.  I  have  no  doubt  you 
will  find  him  there.  I  shall  be  pleased  to  show  you, 
for  I  see  you  are  a  stranger.  We  are  always  de- 
lighted to  see  strangers  and  we  try  to  make  them 
welcome  to  our  town." 


200  THE    PROSPECTOR 

He  moved  toward  the  door  as  he  spoke.  Shock 
knew  at  once  he  was  lying. 

"  Mr.  Stanton  is  not  at  the  Royal.  I  have  been 
informed  he  is  in  this  building  somewhere." 

"  In  this  building?"  murmured  Smiley,  in  a 
puzzled  tone.  "  In  this  building  ?  "  He  glanced  up 
at  the  ceiling  as  if  expecting  to  see  the  missing  man 
there.  "  Strange,"  he  continued.  "  Now,  I  have 
been  here  for  some  time,  for  hours,  indeed.  I  am  a 
busy  man,  Mr.  " 

"  Macgregor,"  replied  Shock. 

"Mr.  Macgregor.  I  find  it  necessary  to  pursue 
my  avocation  into  the  hours  we  generally  devote  to 
slumber.  And  to-day  business  has  been  unusually  in- 
terrupted. But  I  have  failed  to  notice  Mr.  Stanton 
enter." 

At  the  further  end  of  the  room  Shock's  eyes  fell 
upon  a  door,  through  the  cracks  of  which  a  light  was 
shining. 

"  It  is  possible,"  said  Shock,  "  he  is  in  that  room,'* 
pointing  to  the  door. 

"Hardly,  my  dear  sir,  hardly." 

But  even  as  he  spoke  a  voice,  loud  and  clear,  rang 
out.  "  Now,  my  dear  fellow,  go  to  the  deuce.  That 
comes  to  me." 

The  reply  Shock  could  not  catch. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  turning  to  Smiley,  "we  shall 
find  Mr.  Stanton  in  there." 

As  he  spoke  he  walked  toward  the  door.  But 
Smiley  slipped  before  him. 

"  Pardon  me,  my  dear  sir,  that  is  a  private  room— 


HIS    KEEPER  201 

some  friends  of  mine  who  would  greatly  dislike  being 
disturbed.  I  am  exceedingly  sorry  I  cannot  oblige 
you." 

"  I  must  see  Mr.  Stanton,"  said  Shock,  putting  his 
hand  upon  the  door  knob. 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Simmons,  his  thin  lips  drawn 
back  over  his  yellow  teeth,  "  I  regret  to  say  it  is 
impossible.  If  Mr.  Stanton  is  in  there — mark  me,  I 
say  if  he  is  in  there,  which  is  extremely  unlikely — but 
if  he  is  in  there,  he  would  be  very  unwilling  to  be 
disturbed  at  this  hour.  However,  since  you  are  so 
anxious,  I  shall  take  him  a  message." 

As  Smiley  said  this  he  bowed  with  an  air  of 
gracious  condescension,  as  if  he  expected  Shock  to 
be  profoundly  impressed  with  this  concession  to  his 
persistence.  But  Shock  was  not  at  all  impressed. 

"  I  cannot  wait  longer,"  he  said.  "  It  is  a  matter 
of  life  and  death.  I  must  enter  that  room." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Simmons,  rubbing  his  hands, 
his  smile  becoming  more  and  more  expansive,  "  this 
is  my  house,  that  door  is  my  door.  If  you  break  it 
I  should  be  grieved  to  have  to  exact  the  full  penalty 
of  the  law." 

Shock  hesitated.  He  had  never  willingly  broken 
a  law  in  his  life.  It  would  be  a  most  unfortunate 
beginning  for  his  mission  in  this  town,  and,  after  all, 
what  business  had  he  to  interfere?  If  this  young 
fool  was  determined  to  waste  his  money,  let  him  do  so. 
But  he  thought  of  Ike,  and  the  entreaty  in  his  voice 
as  he  whispered  out  his  broken  words,  and  he  thought 
of  the  look  of  reverence  and  love  on  the  lad's  face  that 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

afternoon  when  he  gave  his  toast,  "My  mother! 
God  bless  her!"  Shock's  face  set  hard. 

"  I  must  see  him,"  he  said  simply,  but  with  such  an 
air  of  determination  that  Simmons  weakened. 

"  Well,  if  you  wait  a  few  minutes,"  replied  Smiley, 
"  I  will  see  if  he  will  speak  to  you." 

Shock  waited  till  Smiley  opened  the  door,  where- 
upon, stepping  quickly  forward,  he  set  his  foot 
against  the  lower  panel,  and  pushed  the  door  wide 
open. 

In  a  small  room,  bare  of  furniture  except  for 
tables  and  chairs  and  a  hanging  lamp,  sat  four  men, 
of  whom  Shock  recognised  two.  The  Kid  was  one, 
and  Macfarren  the  other.  Across  the  table  from 
these  sat  two  men,  one  by  his  uniform  the  Inspector 
of  the  Mounted  Police.  The  face  of  the  other  had  to 
Shock  a  familiar  look,  but  where  he  had  seen  him  he 
could  not  remember. 

As  Shock  opened  the  door  the  man  in  uniform 
started  up  with  an  oath,  and  Macfarren  blew  out  the 
light. 

"What's  that  for,  Macfarren?"  said  The  Kid. 

"Shut  up,  you  fool,"  growled  Macfarren. 

"What  did  you  say,  sir?"  enquired  The  Kid,  in  a 
voice  somewhat  thick  and  unsteady. 

"Get  him  out  of  here,"  said  Macfarren,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"  I  want  to  have  a  few  words  with  Mr.  Stanton," 
said  Shock,  standing  in  the  doorway. 

"  Here  you  are.  Fire  away,"  replied  the  boy. 
"  The  light  is  not  good,  but  I  can  hear  in  the  dark." 


HIS    KEEPER 

"You  are  wanted,  Mr.  Stanton,  very  earnestly  by 
a  friend  of  yours." 

"Let  him  walk  right  in  if  he  wants  me,"  replied 
The  Kid. 

"  That  he  cannot  do.     He  is  very  ill." 

"Ah!  who  is  he,  may  I  ask?"  enquired  Stanton, 
striking  a  match. 

It  was  promptly  blown  out. 

"  I  wouldn't  do  that  again,"  he  said  gently.  "  Who 
is  it  ?  "  he  repeated,  striking  another  match  and  light- 
ing the  lamp. 

"  It  is  Ike,"  said  Shock.  "  He  is  very  ill — dying, 
for  all  I  know,  and  he  wants  you." 

For  answer  there  was  a  contemptuous  laugh  from 
the  Mounted  Policeman,  in  which  Macfarren  joined. 

"  Rather  good  that,"  said  Macfarren. 

"Excuse  me,  gentlemen,"  said  the  boy,  making  a 
strenuous  effort  to  pull  himself  together.  "  I  hate  to 
leave  this  good  company,  but  I  must  go.  I  happen 
to  pay  Ike  wages,  but  he  is  my  friend.  He  has  asked 
for  me,  and  I  am  going  to  him." 

"Oh,  blank  it  all!  Don't  be  a  fool,"  said  the 
policeman.  "Ike's  all  right.  He  has  been  taking 
an  extra  drink,  but  you  can't  kill  Ike.  Wait  for 
half  an  hour,  and  we'll  go  down  and  see  how  he  is." 

The  young  lad  hesitated.  The  stranger  made  a 
signal  to  Smiley,  and  suddenly  Shock  found  himself 
pushed  backward  from  the  entrance,  and  the  door 
slammed  in  his  face. 

"  Open  that  door ! "  he  heard  The  Kid  cry. 

There  was  a  murmur  in  response. 


204  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"Open  it,  I  say,  Simmons." 

Again  a  murmur. 

"No,  I  am  going.  I  will  go  myself.  Ike  wants 
me."  The  boy's  voice  was  loud  and  hard. 

"That's  mine,"  the  voice  cried  again.  "Let  that 
go  at  once!" 

There  was  a  sound  of  scuffling  and  of  falling 
chairs.  With  a  kick  Shock  sent  the  door  flying  open, 
and  saw  three  men  struggling  with  Stanton.  Smiley 
had  wound  his  long  arms  about  him  from  behind, 
the  Inspector  held  his  arm  in  a  firm  grip  with  one 
hand  and  with  the  other  had  hold  of  the  stranger,  who 
had  The  Kid  by  the  throat.  Macfarren  was  still  at 
the  table,  evidently  gathering  up  what  lay  upon  it. 

In  an  instant  Shock  sprang  into  the  fray.  With 
a  single  jerk  he  tore  Smiley  from  his  victim  and  flung 
him  on  the  floor.  Reaching  for  the  stranger,  who  was 
choking  The  Kid,  he  caught  his  wrist  and  gave  it  a 
slight  turn.  With  a  yell  of  pain  the  stranger  turned 
upon  him  and  aimed  a  blow  at  Shock's  face.  Catch- 
ing the  blow  on  his  arm,  Shock  seized  his  assailant 
by  the  shoulder,  j  erked  him  clear  of  his  feet,  and  flung 
him  far  into  the  corner  of  the  room.  At  this  the 
policeman  immediately  gave  back. 

For  a  few  seconds  The  Kid  stood  swaying  un- 
steadily. Then,  after  he  recovered  his  breath  he 
turned  to  Shock  and  said,  "  I  hardly  expected  to  ever 
feel  grateful  to  you,  but  I  assure  you  I  appreciate 
your  timely  help." 

Then  turning  to  the  others,  and  regaining  his 
wonted  smile  and  easy  manner,  he  continued, 


HIS    KEEPER  205 

"  Gentlemen,  you  are  somewhat  insistent  in  your 
hospitality.  It  is  always  instructive,  and  sometimes 
pleasant,  to  extend  our  knowledge  of  our  friends,  and 
now  let  me  say  that  a  more  blackguardly  lot  of 
thieves  I  have  never  met,  and  if  this  gentleman  who 
has  dropped  in  so  opportunely  will  kindly  stand  at 
my  back  for  a  few  minutes,  I  shall  be  delighted  to 
make  good  my  words  by  slapping  your  faces."  The 
Kid's  tone  was  low  and  gentle,  even  sweet. 

"Mr.  Macfarren,  your  venerable  beard  prevents 
me.  Simmons,  your  general  sliminess  protects  you, 
but  as  for  you,  Inspector  Haynes,  it  gives  me  great 
pleasure  to  express  my  opinion  of  you — thus ! " 
His  open  hand  flashed  out  as  he  spoke  and  caught 
Haynes  on  the  cheek  a  stinging  blow. 

With  an  oath  the  Inspector  jerked  out  his  pistol 
and  sprang  at  him.  "  I  arrest  you,  sir,  in  the  name 
of  the  Queen.  Move  your  hand  and  you  are  a  dead 
man." 

"  So  be  you,  Mr.  Inspector,"  drawled  a  quiet  voice 
in  the  door. 

Shock  turned,  and  to  his  unspeakable  amazement 
saw  his  sick  friend  standing  with  his  gun  covering 
the  Inspector. 

"One  step  back,  please,  Mr.  Inspector.  Qijick! 
This  trigger  goes  mighty  easy.  Now,  right  wheel  •  " 
The  Inspector  hesitated  a  second.  "Quick!"  >med 
Ike  sharply.  "Don't  you  fool  too  long  obeyin' 
orders.  I  aint  used  to  it.  I'm  here  exercisin'  a 
public  function,  preventin'  murder,  in  short,  and  I'll 
drop  you  in  your  tracks  if  you  don't  move  at  the  next 


206  THE    PROSPECTOR 

word.  You  here  me?  And  if  you  don't  intend  to 
move  at  the  next  word,  say  your  prayers  in  this  in- 
terval. Now  then,  back  up  to  that  table  and  put 
down  that  gun.  Correct.  Very  nice,  indeed." 

Ike's  voice  took  on  more  and  more  of  its  customary 
drawl. 

"  Now,  two  steps  forward.  Right.  Now,  you  can 
— go — to — the — devil ! " 

Ike  stepped  to  the  table,  took  up  the  pistol,  and 
returned  to  his  place  at  the  door,  saying: 

"  Say,  boss,  this  prayer  meetin's  over.  Let's  go 
home." 

"Not  until  the  Inspector  says  so,"  said  The  Kid, 
who  had  recovered  himself,  and  who  was  now  quite 
sober.  "  He  has  the  word  now,  Ikey,  so  don't  inter- 
fere." 

"All  right,  Kiddie,  play  your  game.  You're 
equivalent  to  it,  I  surmise." 

"I  think  so,"  said  the  Kid  sweetly.  Then,  turn- 
ing to  the  Inspector,  he  continued  in  a  voice  of  gentle 
consideration,  "There  is  something  on  your  cheek, 
Inspector  Haynes.  You  have  not  observed  it.  Allow 
me  to  point  it  out  to  you." 

He  moved  forward  as  he  spoke,  but  Shock  inter- 
posed. 

"I  think  that  is  enough,  Mr.  Stanton,"  he  said. 
"  Let  the  matter  drop  now." 

The  boy  turned  quickly,  and  looking  steadily  into 
Shock's  face,  began  in  a  quiet,  even  voice,  "Mr. — 
ah " 

"Macgregor,"  supplied  Shock. 


HIS    KEEPER  207 

"Mr.  Macgregor,  you  are  a  stranger.  In  this 
country  in  a  matter  of  this  kind  we  never  allow  in- 
terference." 

"And  yet,"  said  Shock  in  a  voice  equally  quiet, 
"interference  is  not  unwelcome  at  times." 

"What  you  say  is  quite  true,"  replied  the  boy, 
"and,  as  I  have  said,  I  am  not  ungrateful  for  your 
timely  assistance." 

"  Oh,  I  was  thinking  of  Ike,"  said  Shock  hurriedly. 
"  But  surely  you  will  let  this  matter  drop  now." 

"  Drop ! "  roared  the  Inspector.  "  Blank  your 
impudence!  He  has  called  me  a  thief,  and  he  has 
slapped  my  face  while  doing  my  duty.  I  will  have 
the  lot  of  you  arrested  for  interference  with  jus- 
tice. And  as  for  you,  Stanton,  we  shall  settle  this 
again." 

So  saying,  the  Inspector  made  for  the  door. 

At  the  door  Ike  still  stood  on  guard. 

"When  you  want  me,  Mr.  Inspector,"  he  said, 
"  don't  have  any  delinquency  in  sendin9  for  me.  I 
surmise  I  can  contribute  some  valuable  evidence  on 
the  point  of  guns,  games,  and  such." 

The  Inspector  glared  at  him. 

"  I'll  take  my  gun,"  he  said. 

"Your  gun?  Why,  cert!  Did  you  drop  it  some- 
wheres?  Perhaps  if  you  look  round  when  the  light's 
good  you'll  find  it.  Slimey,  here,  will  help  you.  I'm 
pretty  nigh  certain  you'll  extradite  that  weapon  in 
the  morning.  Good-night." 

With  a  curse  the  Inspector  passed  out. 

"Now,  Ikey,"  said  The  Kid  coolly,  "stand  aside, 


208  THE    PROSPECTOR 

for  there  is  a  cur  here  that  had  the  audacity  to 
throttle  me." 

With  these  words  he  sprang  past  Shock,  seized  the 
stranger  by  the  throat,  cuffed  him  with  his  open  hand, 
and  dragging  him  to  the  door  sent  him  forth  with 
a  parting  kick  and  an  imprecation. 

"  Now,  Macfarren,"  he  said,  turning  to  that  gentle- 
man, who  still  sat  by  the  table,  "  you  have  some 
money  not  belonging  to  you.  Put  it  on  the  table." 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Macfarren  hastily 
poured  forth  from  his  pocket  poker-chips,  gold 
pieces,  and  bills. 

"  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Stanton,"  he  hurried  to  say, 
"  I  was  simply  holding  them  till  the — ah — trouble 
should  be  over." 

"  That  was  most  kind,"  replied  Stanton.  "  I  have 
no  very  clear  remembrance,  but  I  was  under  the  im- 
pression that  it  was  your  suggestion  to  lock  the  door." 
As  he  spoke  he  swept  the  money  into  his  pocket. 

"  Certainly,  but  my  only  intention  was  to  keep 
out — ah — strangers  and — intruders.  You  know,  Mr. 
Stanton,  I  would  be  no  party  to  robbery,  and,  indeed, 
I  do  not  believe  for  a  moment  that  any  robbery  was 
intended.  It  was  an  unfortunate  eagerness  on  the 
part  of  Crawley  to  secure  his  winnings  that  precipi- 
tated the  trouble.  I  really  hope  you  do  not  think  me 
capable  of  anything  of  the  sort." 

Macfarren's  manner  was  abject,  but  his  tone  was 
evidently  sincere. 

"  You  were  unfortunate  in  your  company,  then, 
Mr.  Macfarren.  Come  on,  Ike.  We  are  done  with 


HIS    KEEPER  209 

this  gang.  Lucky  I  was  not  quite  slewed,  or  my 
creditors  would  have  been  in  mourning  to-morrow. 
Mr.  Macgregor,  where  do  you  put  up  ?  " 

"  He's  with  me  to-night,"  said  Ike,  "  and  a  mighty 
fortunate  circumstance  it  was  for  us  all.  This  here 
business  had  got  beyond  my  capabilities.  Some  of  us 
need  a  keeper." 

"  That's  me,  Ikey.  Yes,  I  know.  Rub  it  in.  It's 
a  keeper  I  need.  Well,  I  give  you  my  word  I  am  done 
with  this  gang.  Fool !  Fool ! "  he  continued  bit- 
terly, "  a  cursed  fool,  Ikey.  Three  years  of  it  now." 

"  That's  what,"  said  Ikey,  leading  the  way  down 
the  street.  "  For  the  past  two  years,  boss,  you  know 
you've  beat  me.  Though  I  don't  hold  myself  out  as 
no  sort  of  paradox " 

"  Paragon,  Ikey,"  said  The  Kid,  with  a  gentle 
laugh.  He  always  found  his  cowboy's  English 
amusing. 

"  Paragon,  eh?  Well,  all  the  same,  I  aint  no 
sort  of  paragon,  but  I  know  where  to  stop." 

"Where  are  we  now,  Ike?  At  the  end  of  the 
rope,  eh?  " 

"No,  by  the  livin'  Gimmini!  but  gettin*  there  on 
the  jump,"  said  Ike,  with  grave  emphasis. 

Without  further  conversation  they  made  their  way 
through  the  dark  streets  till  they  reached  Ike's  shack. 
The  doctor  lay  still  asleep  in  the  corner. 

"He  kidnapped  him,"  was  Ike's  explanation  to 
The  Kid,  nodding  his  head  toward  Shock.  "  So  I'd 
advise  that  you  hitch  on  to  the  preacher  here  for  a 
period.  Give  him  the  job  of  windin'  you  up." 


210  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Could  you  undertake  that,  do  you  think  ?  "  There 
was  a  curious  smile  on  the  boy's  face,  but  an  under- 
tone of  seriousness  in  his  voice. 

"  No,"  said  Shock  gravely,  "  I  could  not  under- 
take that." 

"  You  see,  Ike.  I  am  too  uncertain.  Too  far  gone, 
I  guess." 

Ike  was  too  puzzled  to  reply.  He  had  a  kind  of 
dim  idea  that  in  Shock  there  was  some  help  for  his 
boss,  and  he  was  disappointed  at  Shock's  answer. 

For  some  time  Shock  sat  in  silence,  looking  at  the 
fire.  His  heart  was  sore.  He  felt  his  helplessness. 
This  clever,  gay-hearted  young  fellow,  with  all  his 
gentleness  of  manner,  was  unapproachable.  He  be- 
longed to  another  world,  and  yet  Shock  yearned  over 
him  with  a  tenderness  inexplicable  to  himself.  The 
Kid  gave  him  no  opening.  There  was  a  kind  of  gay 
defiance  in  his  bearing,  as  if  he  had  read  Shock's  heart 
and  were  determined  to  keep  him  at  arm's  length.  In- 
stinctively Shock  knew  that  he  must  wait  his  oppor- 
tunity. 

"Well,  guess  we'd  better  turn  in,"  suggested  Ike. 
"  Can  you  two  bunk  together?  That  bed'Il  hold  you 
both,  I  guess." 

"No,  thanks,"  said  Shock  decidedly.  "That  is 
your  bed.  I'll  spread  my  blankets  on  the  floor." 

"  In  this  country,"  said  Stanton,  "  we  give  the 
stranger  the  bed,  so  you  need  not  scruple  to  turn  Ike 
out  of  his.  Ike  and  I  will  take  the  floor." 

"  Not  this  time,"  said  Shock  firmly.  "  I  am  thank- 
ful enough  for  shelter,  without  taking  a  man's  bed. 


HIS    KEEPER  211 

Besides,"  he  added,  suddenly  remembering,  "  Ike 
needs  his  bed  to-night,  after  his  sick  turn." 

"  Yes,  by  Jove !  By  the  way,"  exclaimed  Stanton, 
"  what  happened,  Ike  ?  " 

"  A  sudden  and  unexpected  predisposition  which 
takes  me  now  and  then,"  turning  his  back  upon  Shock 
and  solemnly  winking  at  The  Kid ;  "  but  I  recover  just 
as  quickly,  and  when  I  do  I'm  as  slick  as  ever,  and 
slicker.  These  here  turns  work  off  a  lot  of  bad  blood, 
I  guess." 

During  his  speech  he  continued  winking  at  The 
Kid.  That  young  gentleman  gazed  at  him  in  amazed 
silence.  Gradually,  a  light  broke  in  upon  him. 

"  Look  here,  Ike,  what  in  thunder  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  say,  boss,"  said  Ike  persuasively,  "  just  go  easy. 
You  oughn't  to  excite  yourself.  'Taint  good  for  you, 
and  'taint  good  for  me,  either.  My  doctor  says  so. 
I  wouldn't  persecute  your  enquiries  at  this  late  hour 
of  the  night." 

Ike's  gravity  was  imperturbable. 

"  Well,  I  be  blanked !  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Mac- 
gregor.  Ike,  you're  a  cool  one.  You've  got  the  nerve 

of "  Here  The  Kid  began  to  laugh,  and  Shock, 

all  unsuspecting  of  Ike's  scheme  for  getting  his  boss 
out  of  the  clutches  of  his  spoilers,  gazed  from  the  one 
to  the  other  with  an  air  of  such  absolute  perplexity 
that  The  Kid  went  off  into  immoderate  fits  of  laugh- 
ter. Ike's  gravity  remained  unbroken. 

"All  the  same,  boss,"  he  said,  "  you  want  to  keep 
an  eye  on  that  outfit.  They'll  get  even.  That  man 
Crawley  and  the  Inspector  aint  goin'  to  rest  easy 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

where  they  are.  Marks  like  what  you  put  on  'em  burn 
to  the  bone." 

"  They  cannot  hurt  me,  Ike,"  said  the  Kid  lightly, 
"  and  I  think  they  will  be  afraid  to  try.  But  Mr. 
Macgregor  here  has  got  into  trouble.  Is  not  Mac- 
farren  a  church  warden,  or  something,  in  your 
Church?" 

"  He  is  a  manager,  I  think,"  said  Shock.  "  Pretty 
much  the  same  thing." 

"  Well,  he  is  a  man  to  look  out  for.  I  can  get  along 
without  him,  but  you  cannot,  can  you?  I  mean,  he 
can  hurt  you." 

"  No,"  said  Shock  quietly,  "  he  cannot  hurt  me. 
The  only  man  that  can  hurt  me  is  myself.  No  other 
man  can.  And  besides,"  he  added,  pulling  a  little 
Bible  out  of  his  pocket,  "  I  have  a  Keeper,  as  Ike 
said." 

As  Shock  opened  the  little  Bible  he  became  con- 
scious of  a  sense  of  mastery.  His  opportunity  had 
come. 

"  Listen  to  this,"  he  said,  and  he  read  in  a  voice  of 
assured  conviction: 

"  The  Lord  is  thy  keeper. 
The  Lord  shall  keep  thee  from  all  evil. 
He  shall  keep  thy  soul. 

The  Lord  shall  keep  thy  going  out  and  thy  coining  in. 
From  this  time  forth  and  forevermore. " 

He  closed  the  book  and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 
"  No,"  he  said,  "  no  man  can  hurt  me."     Then 
turning  to  Ike  he  said  quietly,  "  I  always  say  my 


HIS    KEEPER 

prayers.  My  mother  started  me  twenty-five  years 
ago,  and  I  have  never  seen  any  reason  to  quit." 

While  his  tone  was  gentle  and  his  manner  simple, 
there  was  almost  a  challenge  in  his  eyes.  The  fair 
face  of  young  Stanton  flushed  through  the  tan. 

"You  do  your  mother  honour,"  he  said,  with  quiet 
dignity. 

"  I  say,"  said  Ike  slowly,  "  if  you  kin  do  it  just  as 
convenient,  perhaps  you'd  say  'em  out.  Wouldn't 
do  us  no  harm,  eh,  Kiddie?  " 

«  No,  I  should  be  pleased." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Shock.  Then  for  a  moment 
he  stood  looking  first  at  Ike's  grave  face,  and  then 
at  The  Kid,  out  of  whose  blue  eyes  all  the  gay,  reck- 
less defiance  had  vanished. 

"  Don't  imagine  I  think  myself  a  bit  better  than 
you,"  said  Shock  hastily,  voice  and  lip  quivering. 

"Oh,  git  out!"  ejaculated  Ike  quickly.  "That 
aint  sense." 

"  But,"  continued  Shock,  "  perhaps  I  have  had  a 
little  better  chance.  Certainly  I  have  had  a  good 
mother." 

"  And  I,  too,"  said  the  boy,  in  a  husky  voice. 

So  the  three  kneeled  together  in  Ike's  shack,  each 
wondering  how  it  had  come  about  that  it  should  seem 
so  natural  and  easy  for  him  to  be  in  that  attitude. 

In  a  voice  steady  and  controlled  Shock  made  his 
prayer.  Humility  and  gratitude  for  all  that  had 
been  done  for  him  in  his  life,  an  overwhelming  sense 
of  need  for  the  life  demanded  in  this  God-forgetting 
country,  and  a  great  love  and  compassion  for  the  two> 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

men  with  whom  he  had  so  strangely  been  brought  into 
such  close  relation  swelled  in  his  heart  and  vibrated 
through  his  prayer. 

Ike's  face  never  lost  its  impassive  gravity.  What- 
ever may  have  been  his  feelings,  he  gave  no  sign  of 
emotion.  But  the  lad  that  kneeled  on  the  other  side 
of  Shock  pressed  his  face  down  hard  into  his  hands, 
while  his  frame  shook  with  choking,  silent  sobs.  All 
that  was  holiest  and  tenderest  in  his  past  came  crowd- 
ing in  upon  him,  in  sad  and  terrible  contrast  to  his 
present. 

Immediately  after  the  prayer  Shock  slipped  out  of 
the  shack. 

"  I  say,  boss,"  said  Ike,  as  he  poked  the  fire,  "  he's 
a  winner,  aint  he?  Guess  he  hits  the  sky  all  right, 
when  he  gets  onto  his  knees.  By  the  livin'  Gimmini ! 
when  that  feller  gits  a-goin'  he  raises  considerable  of 
a  promotion." 

"  Commotion,  Ikey,"  said  The  Kid  gently.  "  Yes, 
I  believe  he  hits  the  sky — and  he  says  he  needs  a 
Keeper." 

"  Well,"  said  Ike  solemnly,  "  I  have  a  lingerin* 
suspicion  that  you're  correct,  but  if  he  needs  a  Keeper, 
what  about  us  ?  " 


XIII 

THE    PRESIDENT    OF    GUY'S, 
LONDON 

DEI.  BURTON  was  never  quite  clear  as  to 
how  he  had  found  himself  in  the  early 
morning  on  the  Loon  Lake  trail,  with  a 
man  whom  he  had  never  seen  before,  nor 
how,  after  he  had  discovered  himself  in  that  position, 
he  had  been  persuaded  to  continue  his  journey,  much 
less  to  take  up  with  such  enthusiasm  the  treatment  of 
the  cases  to  which  he  had  been  summoned  by  that 
same  stranger.  Indeed,  he  did  not  come  to  a  clear 
consciousness  of  his  sayings  and  doings  until  he  found 
himself  seated  at  a  most  comfortable  breakfast  in  the 
house  of  the  Old  Prospector,  with  this  same  strange 
gentleman  sitting  opposite  him.  Even  then,  before 
reaching  a  solution  of  the  problem  as  to  how  he  had 
arrived  at  that  particular  place  and  in  that  particu- 
lar company,  to  his  amazement  he  found  himself  in- 
terested in  the  discussion  of  the  cases  on  hand. 

With  the  Old  Prospector  he  had  little  difficulty. 
Inflammatory  rheumatism,  with  a  complication  of 
pneumonia ;  in  itself  not  necessarily  fatal,  or  even  dan- 
gerous, but  with  a  man  of  the  Old  Prospector's  age 
and  habits  of  life  this  complication  might  any  mo- 
ment become  serious.  He  left  some  medicine,  ordered 

215 


216  THE    PROSPECTOR 

nourishing  food,  perfect  rest  and  quiet,  and  was 
about  to  depart. 

"How  soon  shall  I  be  up,  doctor?"  enquired  the 
Old  Prospector. 

"  I  wouldn't  worry." 

"A  week?" 

"  A  week !  If  you  are  on  your  legs  in  a  month  you 
may  be  thankful." 

"Doctor,"  said  the  Old  Prospector  in  a  tone  of 
quiet  resolution,  "  it  is  vitally  important  that  I  should 
be  on  my  journey  sooner  than  a  month.  My  business 
admits  of  no  delay." 

"  Well,"  said  the  doctor  in  his  courteous,  gentle 
tone,  "  if  you  move  you  will  likely  die." 

"  I  shall  certainly  die  if  I  do  not." 

For  once  the  Old  Prospector  broke  through  his 
wonted  philosophic  calm.  His  voice  trembled,  and 
his  eyes  glittered  in  his  excitement. 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  doctor  soothingly,  noting 
these  symptoms,  "  wait  a  week  or  so.  Follow  the  di- 
rections carefully,  and  we  shall  see." 

"I  shall  wait  a  week,  doctor,  but  no  longer.  In 
ten  days  I  shall  be  on  the  trail." 

"Well,  well,"  repeated  the  doctor,  looking  keenly 
into  the  old  man's  face,  "  we  won't  worry  about  it  for 
a  week." 

"  No ;  for  a  week  I  am  content." 

Leaving  the  Old  Prospector's  shack  Shock  con- 
ducted the  doctor  to  the  little  room  at  the  back  of  the 
Stopping  Place  where  little  Patsy  lay.  At  the  door 
'they  were  met  by  the  mother,  vociferous  with  lamen- 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON  217 

tations,  prayers,  blessings,  and  entreaties.  Within 
the  room,  seated  beside  the  bed,  was  Carroll,  gloomy 
and  taciturn. 

The  doctor  drew  back  the  blind  and  let  in  the  morn- 
ing light.  It  showed  poor  little  Patsy,  pale  and 
wasted,  his  angelic  face  surrounded  with  a  golden 
aureole  of  yellow  curls  that  floated  across  the  white 
pillow.  The  doctor  was  startled  and  moved. 

"  What  is  this?  "  he  cried.  "  What  is  the  matter?  " 

"  Just  an  accident,  doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Carroll 
volubly.  "  It  was  a  blow  he  got." 

"  I  struck  him  wid  a  chair,"  said  Carroll  bit- 
terly. 

"Whisht,  now,  darlin'.  You're  not  to  be  blamin' 
yourself  at  all,  at  all.  Sure,  you  didn't  mane  to  do 
it.  And  what's  a  bit  of  discoosion  between  men? 
The  little  Patsy,  the  brave  little  heart  that  he  is,  run 
in  to  help  his  dad,  so  he  did ! "  And  Mrs.  Carroll  con- 
tinued with  a  description  which  became  more  and 
more  incoherent  and  more  and  more  broken  with  sobs 
and  tears. 

"  It's  a  wonder  he  didn't  kill  him,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Arrah,  ye  may  say  it.  But  they  do  be  tellin'  me 
that  his  riverence  there  bey  ant,  he  stood  in  under  the 
blow.  God  bless  his  sowl!  It's  a  hairo  he  is — a 
hairo!" 

She  ran  toward  Shock  as  if  to  embrace  him,  but 
Shock,  who  had  come  to  know  her  ways,  avoided  her, 
dodging  behind  the  doctor. 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  said.  "  Any  man  would  have 
done  the  same." 


218  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Now,  God  pardon  your  riverence  for  the  lie  ye've 
told." 

"  But  how  did  you  get  into  the  row  ? "  asked  the 
doctor,  turning  to  Shock. 

"  And  ye  may  ask,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Carroll. 
"  It's  all  av  that  squirmin'  little  worm  of  a  French- 
man. May  the  divil  fly  away  wid  him!  I'm  not 
sayin'  but  Carroll  there  is  quick  with  his  tongue,  and 
betimes  with  his  hands,  too — the  high  spirit  that  he 
has!  but  sure,  it's  a  tinder  heart  he  carries  inside  av 
him  if  they'd  lave  him  be." 

Meantime  the  doctor  had  been  proceeding  with  his 
examination. 

"  He  has  lain  a  week  like  this,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  week,  with  never  a  move  till  him,  and  niver 
a  look  out  av  his  lovely  eyes." 

"  But  he  takes  his  nourishment,  does  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  once  in  a  while  a  cup  of  milk  with  a  wee  drap 
av  whisky  intill  it,  doctor." 

The  doctor  nodded. 

"Won't  hurt  him.  Not  too  much,  mind.  A  tea- 
spoonful  in  a  large  cup." 

The  doctor  stood  for  some  moments  after  he  had 
finished  his  examination,  looking  down  upon  the  little 
white  face,  so  wasted,  so  beautiful.  Then  he  shook 
his  head  sorrowfully. 

"  Ah,  doctor,  darlin'  I "  burst  out  Mrs.  Carroll. 
"  Don't  say  the  wurrd !  Don't  say  the  wurrd ! " 

At  this  Carroll  lifted  his  head  and  enquired  briefly, 
"  Will  he  get  better,  doctor?  " 

"  He  has  a  chance.    He  has  a  slight  chance." 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON  219 

And  with  a  look  at  Shock  he  left  the  room.  After 
speaking  a  few  words  of  comfort  and  hope  to  the 
mother  Shock  followed  the  doctor  from  the  house. 

"  It  is  af  case  for  trephining,  I  fear,"  said  the  doc- 
tor. "  A  clear  case.  It  is  the  only  chance  he  has, 
and  it  ought  to  be  done  at  once." 

"  You  mean  to-day?  "  asked  Shock. 

"Yes,  to-day.  But "  The  doctor  hesitated. 

"  I  am  not  ready." 

"I  could  get  your  instruments  and  anything  else 
you  might  order,"  said  Shock  eagerly. 

"  No,  it  is  not  that,"  said  the  doctor.  "  The  truth 
is,  I  have  not  the  nerve.  Nice  confession  to  make, 
isn't  it?  Look  at  that  hand." 

He  held  out  his  hand  as  he  spoke,  and  Shock  saw 
that  not  only  the  hand,  but  the  whole  arm,  indeed 
the  whole  gaunt  frame  of  the  doctor,  was  all  in  a 
tremble.  Shock's  experience  in  the  city  wards  made 
him  realise  something  of  the  shame  and  humiliation 
of  the  moment  to  the  doctor.  He  hastened  to  turn 
his  attention  in  a  happier  direction. 

"You  have  performed  this  operation  before?" 

"  Yes,  frequently  in  the  old  country,  once  or  twice 
here.  I  have  seen  some  practice,  sir,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, straightening  himself  up.  "  But  there  it  is," 
holding  out  again  his  shaking  hand. 

"Well,"  said  Shock,  "we  must  wait  till—till 
everything  is  ready." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Not  before  three  days 
would  I  dare  to  touch  a  knife.  In  three  days,  sir,  I 
jshall  return,  bringing  all  the  appliances  necessary, 


220  THE    PROSPECTOR 

and  in  the  interval  the  time  will  not  be  entirely  lost. 
We  shall  take  every  means  to  tone  the  boy  up.  By 
the  way,  I  suppose  there  is  someone  in  the  village 
with  sufficient  nerve  to  render  assistance  ?  " 

"I  do  not  know.  There  is  only  one  man  in  this 
country  whom  I  can  think  of  as  being  reliable  for 
an  affair  of  this  kind.  Do  you  happen  to  know  of 
the  cowboy,  Ike?" 

"  The  very  man,"  said  the  doctor.  rt  He  lives  on 
the  Stanton  ranch  between  this  and  the  fort.  We  can 
see  him  on  our  way." 

Before  the  doctor  left  for  home  he  had  called  to 
prepare  the  Carrolls  for  the  operation.  At  first  Tim 
would  not  hear  of  it.  He  fiercely  declared  that  he 
would  kill  any  man  that  dared  put  a  knife  on  his 
lad.  His  wife  was  equally  determined  that  the  oper- 
ation should  not  take  place. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  doctor,  "  then  your  boy  will 
die,  and,  Carroll,  I  shall  have  you  arrested  for  man- 
slaughter forthwith." 

This  aspect  of  the  case  made  little  impression  upon 
Carroll. 

**  If  the  lad  dies,'*  he  said  hoarsely,  "  divil  a  care 
what  happens  to  me.5* 

But  Mrs.  Carrofl  became  anxiously  desirous  that 
the  operation  should  be  performed. 

i4  And  sure  the  good  God  wouldn't  be  after  takin' 
him  from  us,  for  didn't  his  riverence  there  put  up  a 
prayer  that  would  melt  the  heart  of  the  angels,  and 
I  did  promise  God  meself  a  rale  fast,  with  niver  an 
egg  nor  a  bit  of  a  fish  to  my  teeth,  if  he  should  lave 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON 

him  wid  us.  And  Carroll,  darlin',  ye'll  not  be  after 
breakin'  ye're  wife's  heart,  nor  makin'  her  a  widow? 
Just  je  come  on,  doctor,  and  niver  a  word  he'll  say 
till  ye." 

And  so  it  came,  in  three  days  that  the  doctor  re- 
turned, clean,  steady,  and  fit  for  his  work,  with  Ike, 
Shock,  and  The  Kid  on  hand  as  his  assistants. 

"  I  asked  the  doctor  if  I  might  come  along,"  said 
the  latter,  explaining  his  presence,  "  and  though  he 
did  not  encourage  me,  here  I  am." 

"  We  will  make  him  nurse  or  outside  guard,"  said 
Shock.  "We  will  give  him  full  charge  of  the 
family." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  in  his  gentle,  profes- 
sional voice,  "the  family.  Let  them  be  removed  to 
some  distance.  The  house  must  be  kept  entirely 
quiet,  entirely  quiet.  An  interruption  might  be  se- 
rious. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carroll  and  the  children  had 
better  be  taken  away  to  some  remote  distance,  so  that 
we  may  have  in  the  house  perfect  peace- — perfect 
peace." 

But  in  Carroll  they  met  an  unexpected  difficulty. 

"  Not  a  fut  of  me  will  I  lave,"  he  announced,  and 
from  this  position  was  immovable. 

"Let  us  say  no  more  at  present,"  said  the  doctor 
quietly  to  his  assistants.  "  There  are  various  methods 
of  removing  an  obstruction.  I  have  found  various 
methods." 

And  so  The  Kid,  with  Mrs.  Carroll,  Tim,  Nora, 
Eileen,  Jimmie,  and  little  Michael,  set  off  for  Jumping 
Rock  at  the  lake.  After  the  procession  had  formed, 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

however,  another  difficulty  arose.  Michael  refused 
point  blank  to  go,  and  on  being  urged  threw  himself 
down  upon  the  ground  and  kicked  and  yelled 
vociferously. 

"  Indade,  there's  no  use  of  tryin'  to  make  him  do 
what  he  don't  want,"  said  his  mother,  with  a  convic- 
tion born  of  long  experience  of  Michael's  tempers 
and  ways. 

The  procession  halted,  The  Kid  looking  helpless  and 
foolish.  In  vain  he  offered  his  watch,  his  pistol  with 
the  charge  drawn.  All  his  possessions  availed  not 
at  all. 

In  his  desperation  he  was  on  the  point  of  proceeding 
to  extreme  measures  when  a  voice,  singularly  sweet 
and  musical,  sounded  behind  him. 

"  Perhaps  I  can  help,"  it  said. 

The  Kid  swung  round,  hat  in  hand.  It  was  Ma- 
rion, the  Old  Prospector's  daughter. 

"I  shall  be  profoundly  thankful.  And  for  that 
matter  doubtless  he  will,  too,  for  I  had  come  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  situation  demanded  a  change  of 
tactics." 

The  girl  sat  down  beside  Michael,  and  lifting  him 
to  her  knee  began  to  beguile  him  from  his  present 
misery  with  promises  of  songs,  and  snatches  of  tales, 
whose  powers  of  enchantment  had  evidently  been 
proved  in  similar  circumstances,  ti-ll  finally  his  inter- 
est was  diverted,  his  curiosity  excited,  and  at  length 
Michael  was  persuaded  to  join  the  company  with 
smiling  expectation  of  good  things  to  come. 

"  I  wish  you  would  confide  to  me  the  secret  of  your 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON 

power,  Miss "  said  The  Kid,  with  a  most  cour- 
teous bow. 

"  I  am  Marion  Mowbray,"  she  said  simply. 

"  Miss  Mowbray,"  continued  The  Kid,  "  I  know 
your  father  very  well,  and" — looking  into  the  girl's 
eyes,  so  very  piercing  and  so  very  black — "  I  should 
like  to  know  his  daughter,  too." 

But  Marion  devoted  herself  chiefly  to  Michael,  giv- 
ing such  attention  as  she  could  to  the  older  and  more 
active  and  more  venturous  Eileen  and  Jimmie,  and 
The  Kid  found  his  duties  to  Mrs.  Carroll,  Tim,  and 
Nora  so  engrossing  that  he  had  little  time  to  bestow 
any  further  attention  upon  the  girl. 

While  Marion  with  tales  and  songs  held  the 
younger  portion  in  an  enthralled  circle  about  her 
upon  the  Jumping  Rock,  The  Kid  upon  the  lake  shore 
below  was  using  his  most  strenuous  endeavours  to  make 
the  hour  pass  happily  for  Mrs.  Carroll,  Tim,  and 
Nora. 

Meantime,  in  the  back  room  of  the  Stopping-Place 
Dr.  Burton  was  making  his  preparations  for  a  very 
critical  operation.  All  his  movements  were  marked 
by  a  swift  dexterity  and  an  attention  to  detail  that 
gave  Shock  the  impression  that  here  was  a  man  not 
only  a  master  of  his  art,  but,  for  the  time  being  at 
least,  master  of  himself.  He  laid  out  and  thoroughly 
disinfected  his  instruments,  prepared  his  lint,  band- 
ages, sponges,  and  explained  clearly  to  each  of 
his  two  assistants  the  part  he  was  to  take.  Shock, 
who  had  had  some  slight  experience  in  the  surgical 
operations  attendant  upon  an  active  football  career, 


224  THE    PROSPECTOR 

was  to  be  the  assistant  in  chief,  being  expected  to 
take  charge  of  the  instruments,  and  to  take  part,  if 
necessary,  in  the  actual  operation.  Ike  was  in- 
structed to  be  in  readiness  with  a  basin,  sponge,  and 
anything  else  that  might  be  demanded. 

"  We  shall  not  give  you  much  to  do,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, "  but  what  you  have  to  do  must  be  done  promptly 
and  well.  Now,  then,"  he  continued,  lifting  his 
scissors  with  a  flourish  which  did  not  fail  to  impress 
Carroll,  who  was  seated  near  by,  "  we  shall  proceed." 

"  Will  it  hurt,  doctor  ?  "  groaned  Carroll,  gazing 
upon  the  row  of  instruments  with  fascinated  eyes. 

"  Before  we  are  finished  it  is  quite  possible  the  pa- 
tient may  be  conscious  of  nervous  disturbance,  accom- 
panied by  sensations  more  or  less  painful." 

"Will  it  hurt,  blank  you!"  replied  Carroll,  whose 
hoarse  voice  showed  the  intensity  of  his  repressed 
emotion. 

"As  I  was  saying,"  said  the  doctor  in  his  calm, 
even  tone,  and  examining  his  instruments  one  by  one 
with  affectionate  care,  "  there  is  every  possibility  that 
the  nerve  centres  may  be " 

"Oh,"  groaned  Carroll,  still  fascinated  by  the  in- 
struments that  the  doctor  was  handling  with  such 
loving  touches,  "  will  someone  shut  up  this  blank, 
blatherin'  fool?  He'd  drive  a  man  crazy,  so  he 
wud!" 

"Mr.  Carroll,  we  must  be  calm.  We  must  be  en- 
tirely calm,"  observed  the  doctor.  "  Now,"  continu- 
ing his  monologue,  "we  shall  remove  the  hair  from 
the  field  of  operation.  Cleanliness  in  an  operation  of 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON  225 

this  kind  is  of  prime  importance.  Recent  scientific 
investigations  show  that  the  chief  danger  in  oper- 
ations is  from  septic  poisoning.  Yes,  every  precau- 
tion must  be  taken.  Then  we  shall  bathe  with  this 
weak  solution  of  carbolic — three  per  cent,  will  be 
quite  sufficient,  quite  sufficient — the  injured  parts  and 
the  surrounding  area,  and  then  we  shall  examine  the 
extent  of  the  wound.  If  the  dura  mater  be  pene- 
trated, and  the  arachnoid  cavity  be  opened,  then  there 
will  be  in  all  probability  a  very  considerable  extrav- 
asation of  blood,  and  by  this  time,  doubtless,  serious 
inflammation  of  all  the  surrounding  tissues.  The 
aperture  being  very  small  and  the  depression  some- 
what extensive,  it  will  be  necessary  to  remove — to  saw 
out,  in  short — a  portion  of  the  skull,"  lifting  up  a 
fierce-looking  instrument. 

Carroll  groaned. 

"Let  me  out!"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  rising  and 
feeling  his  way  with  outstretched  hand  to  the  door. 
"  I  can't  stand  this  bloody  divil ! " 

Ike  opened  the  door,  while  Shock  sprang  to  support 
the  groping  man. 

"  Lave  me  be ! "  he  said  fiercely,  with  a  curse,  and 
pushing  Shock  back  he  stumbled  out. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  doctor,  with  evident  satisfaction, 
"  there  are  various  methods  of  removing  obstructions, 
as  I  have  said.  We  shall  now  no  longer  delay."  And 
he  proceeded  to  clip  away  the  golden  curls  from 
about  the  wound.  "These,"  he  said,  holding  them 
up  in  his  fingers  and  looking  at  them  admiringly, 
"  we  had  better  preserve.  These  beautiful  locks  may 


226  THE    PROSPECTOR 

be  priceless  to  the  mother,  priceless  indeed.  Poor, 
bonnie  laddie!  Now  we  shall  prepare,  we  shall  asep- 
ticallj  prepare,  the  whole  field  of  operation.  A 
sponge — that's  it.  That  will  do.  Now,  let  us  ex- 
amine the  extent  of  the  injury,"  feeling  with  dex- 
trous fingers  about  the  edge  of  the  slight  wound,  and 
over  all  the  depressed  surface. 

"Ah!  as  I  feared.  The  internal  table  is  widely 
comminuted,  and  there  is  possibly  injury  to  the  dura 
mater.  We  must  excise  a  small  portion  of  the  bone. 
The  scalpel,  please."  Then,  after  laying  back  with 
a  few  swift,  dexterous  movements  the  scalp  from 
about  the  wounded  parts :  "  The  saw.  Yes,  the  saw. 
The  removal  of  a  section,"  he  continued,  in  his  gentle 
monotone,  beginning  to  saw,  "  will  allow  examination 
of  the  internal  table.  A  sponge,  please.  Thank 
you.  And  if  the  dura  mater "  Here  the  still- 
ness of  the  room  was  broken  by  a  sound  from  Ike. 
The  doctor  glanced  at  him. 

"  This  is  a  very  simple  part  of  the  operation,"  he 
explained,  "  a  very  simple  part,  indeed,  and  attended 
with  absolutely  no  pain.  A  sponge,  please.  Thank 
you.  Now  the  forceps.  Yes." 

He  snipped  off  a  section  of  the  bone.     Ike  winced. 

"Ah,  as  I  feared.  There  is  considerable  com- 
minution and  extravasation.  Yes,  and  owing  to  the 
long  delay,  and  doubtless  to  the  wet  applications 
which  the  uninitiated  invariably  apply,  pus.  Now, 
the  carbolic  solution,"  to  Ike,  who  was  standing  with 
white  face  and  set  teeth. 

"  You  are  doing  remarkably  well,"  said  the  doc- 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON 

tor  encouragingly  to  him,  "  remarkably  well.  To  a 
novice  this  at  times  presents  a  shocking  aspect.  Now 
we  shall  attack  this  depression.  The  elevator,  please. 
No,  the  elevator,  Mr.  Macgregor.  There  it  lies. 
Yes.  Now  gently,  gently.  Just  hold  that  in  posi- 
tion," offering  Shock  the  end  of  the  instrument  which 
he  was  using  as  a  lever  to  raise  the  depressed  portion 
of  the  skull.  "The  other  scalpel,  please.  Now,  a 
slight  pressure.  Gently,  gently.  We  must  be  ex- 
tremely careful  of  the  edges.  No,  that  will  not  do. 
Then  we  must  have  recourse  to  the  trephine." 

He  lifted  the  instrument  as  he  spoke,  and  gazed  at 
it  with  every  mark  of  affection. 

"  This  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  in- 
struments of  modern  surgery.  A  lovely  instrument, 
a  lovely  instrument,  indeed.  Let  us  secure  our  firm 
surface.  That  seems  satisfactory,"  beginning  to 
bore. 

This  was  too  much  for  Ike.  He  hastily  set  down 
the  basin  and  sponge  on  a  chair,  then  straightened 
up  in  a  vain  effort  to  regain  mastery  of  himself. 

"Ah,"  said  the  doctor.  "Poor  Ike!  The  spirit 
is  willing,  but  the  sympathetic  nerve  is  evidently  se- 
riously disturbed,  thereby  affecting  the  vasomotor, 
and  will  likely  produce  complete  syncope.  Lay  him 
down  on  his  back  immediately." 

"  No,"  said  Ike,  "  I  aint  no  good.  I'm  going 
out." 

"  Now,"  said  the  doctor  calmly,  when  Shock  and 
he  had  been  left  alone,  "  I  hope  there  will  be  no  more 
interruption.  We  must  proceed  with  the  trephining. 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

Ah,  beautiful,  beautiful!"  his  quick  moving,  deft 
fingers  keeping  pace  with  his  monologue. 

"  There  now,"  after  a  few  minutes'  work  with  the 
trephine,  "the  depression  is  lifted.  We  shall  soon 
be  finished." 

With  supple,  firm  fingers  he  sewed  the  scalp, 
dressed  the  wound,  and  was  done. 

"Thank  God!"  said  Shock,  with  a  long  breath. 
"Will  he  live?" 

"  It  is  a  question  now  of  strength  and  vitality.  If 
the  inflammation  is  not  too  widely  extended  the  child 
may  recover.  Young  life  is  very  tenacious." 

The  doctor  washed  his  hands,  wiped  his  instru- 
ments, put  them  carefully  away  in  their  case,  and  sat 
down. 

"  Doctor,"  said  Shock,  "  that  is  a  great  work. 
Even  to  a  layman  that  operation  seems  wonderful." 

Under  the  stimulus  of  his  professional  work  the 
doctor's  face,  which  but  two  days  before  had  been 
soft  and  flabby,  seemed  to  have  taken  on  a  firmer, 
harder  appearance,  and  his  whole  manner,  which  had 
been  shuffling  and  slovenly,  had  become  alert  and  self- 
reliant. 

"A  man  who  can  do  that,  doctor,  can  do  great 
things." 

A  shadow  fell  on  his  face.  The  look  of  keen  in- 
telligence became  clouded.  His  very  frame  lost  its 
erect  poise,  and  seemed  to  fall  together.  His  profes- 
sional air  of  jaunty  cheerfulness  forsook  him.  He 
huddled  himself  down  into  his  chair,  put  his  face  in 
his  hands,  and  shuddered. 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON 

"  My  dear  sir,"  he  said,  lifting  up  his  face,  "  it  is 
quite  useless,  quite  hopeless." 

"No,"  said  Shock  eagerly,  "do  not  say  that. 
Surely  the  Almighty  God " 

The  doctor  put  up  his  hand. 

"I  know  all  you  would  say.  How  often  have  I 
heard  it!  The  fault  is  not  with  the  Almighty,  but 
with  myself.  I  am  still  honest  with  myself,  and 

yet "  Here  he  paused  for  some  moments.  "I 

have  tried — and  I  have  failed.  I  am  a  wreck.  I 
have  prayed— prayed  with  tears  and  groans.  I  have 
done  my  best.  But  I  am  beyond  help." 

For  a  full  minute  Shock  stood,  gazing  sadly  at  the 
noble  head,  the  face  so  marred,  the  huddling  form. 
He  knew  something  of  the  agony  of  remorse,  humilia- 
tion, fear,  and  despair  that  the  man  was  suffering. 

"Dr.  Burton,"  said  Shock,  with  the  air  of  a  man 
who  has  formed  a  purpose,  "  you  are  not  telling  the 
truth,  sir." 

The  doctor  looked  up  with  a  flash  of  indignation 
in  his  eyes. 

"  You  are  misrepresenting  facts  in  two  important 
particulars.  You  have  just  said  that  you  have  done 
your  best,  and  that  you  are  beyond  all  help.  The 
simple  truth  is  you  have  neither  done  your  best,  nor 
are  you  beyond  help." 

"  Beyond  help ! "  cried  the  doctor,  starting  up  and 
beginning  to  pace  the  floor,  casting  aside  his  usual 
gentle  manner.  "  You  use  plain  speech,  sir,  but  your 
evident  sincerity  forbids  resentment.  If  you  knew 
my  history  you  would  agree  with  me  that  I  state  the 


230  THE    PROSPECTOR 

simple  truth  when  I  declare  that  I  am  beyond  help. 
You  see  before  you,  sir,  the  sometime  President  of 
the  Faculty  of  Guy's,  London,  a  man  with  a  reputa- 
tion second  to  none  in  the  Metropolis.  But  neither 
reputation,  nor  fortune,  nor  friends  could  avail  to 
save  me  from  this  curse.  I  came  to  this  country  in 
desperation.  It  was  a  prohibition  country.  Cursed 
be  those  who  perpetrated  that  fraud  upon  the  British 
public!  If  London  be  bad,  this  country,  with  its 
isolation,  its  monotony  of  life,  and  this  damnable  per- 
mit system,  is  a  thousand  times  worse.  God  pity  the 
fool  who  leaves  England  in  the  hope  of  recovering 
his  manhood  and  freedom  here.  I  came  to  this  God- 
forsaken,  homeless  country  with  some  hope, of  recov- 
ery in  my  heart.  That  hope  has  long  since  vanished. 
I  am  now  beyond  all  help." 

"  No,"  said  Shock  in  a  quiet?  firm  voice,  "  you  have 
told  me  nothing  to  prove  that  you  are  beyond  help. 
In  fact,"  he  continued  almost  brusquely,  "  no  man  of 
sense  and  honesty  has  a  right  to  say  that.  Yes,"  he 
continued,  in  answer  to  the  doctor's  astonished  look, 
"  salvation,  as  it  is  called,  is  a  matter  of  common 
sense  and  honesty." 

"  I  thought  you  clergymen  preached  salvation  to 
be  a  matter  of  faith." 

"  Faith,  yes.  That  is  the  same  thing.  Common 
sense,  I  call  it.  A  man  is  a  fool  to  think  he  is  beyond 
help  while  he  has  life.  A  little  common  sense  and 
honesty  is  all  you  want.  Now,  let  us  find  Carroll. 
But,  doctor,  let  my  last  word  to  you  be  this — do  not 
ever  say  or  think  what  you  have  said  to  me  to-day* 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON 

It  simply  is  not  true.  And  I  repeat,  the  man  who 
can  do  that  sort  of  thing,"  pointing  to  the  child 
lying  on  the  bed,  "  can  do  a  great  deal  more.  Good 
things  are  waiting  you." 

"Oh,  Lord  God  Almighty!"  said  the  doctor, 
throwing  up  his  hands  in  the  intensity  of  his  emotion. 
"  You  almost  make  me  think  there  is  some  hope." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  doctor,"  said  Shock  in  a  matter 
of  fact  voice.  "  You  are  going  to  recover  your  man- 
hood and  your  reputation.  I  know  it.  But  as  I  said 
before,  remember  I  expect  common  sense  and 
honesty." 

"  Common  sense  and  honesty,"  said  the  doctor  as 
if  to  himself.  "  No  religion." 

"  There  you  are,"  said  Shock.  "  I  did  not  say 
that.  I  did  say  common  sense  and  honesty.  But 
now,  do  go  and  find  poor  Carroll.  He  will  be  in 
agony." 

"  Oh,  a  little  of  it  won't  hurt  him.  He  is  rather 
an  undeveloped  specimen,"  said  the  doctor,  resuming 
his  professional  tone. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  returned  with  Carroll,  whose 
face  was  contorted  with  his  efforts  to  seem  calm. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said  to  Shock.    "  Will  the  lad  live?  " 

"  The  operation  is  entirely; successful,  thanks  to  the 
skill  of  Dr.  Burton  there." 

"Will  he  live?"  said  Carroll  to  the  doctor  in  a 
husky  tone. 

"Well,  he  has  a  chance — a  chance  now  which  be- 
fore he  had  not;  and  if  he  does?  you  owe  it  to  Mr, 
Macgregor  there." 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  And  if  he  doesn't,  I  shall  owe  that  to  him,"  hissed 
Carroll  through  his  clenched  teeth. 

For  this   Shock  hard  no  reply. 

"  I  shall  go  for  Mrs.  Carroll  and  the  children  now," 
he  said  quietly,  and  passed  out  of  the  room. 

"  Carroll,"  said  the  doctor  with  stern  deliberation, 
"  I  have  always  known  you  to  be  a  bully,  but  never 
before  that  you  were  a  brute.  This  man  saved  your 
child's  life  at  very  considerable  danger  to  his  own. 
And  a  second  time — if  the  child  recovers  he  has  saved 
his  life,  for  had  the  operation  not  been  performed  to- 
day your  child  would  have  died,  and  you  would  have 
been  arrested  for  manslaughter." 

"  Doctor,"  said  Carroll,  turning  upon  him,  and 
standing  nervous  and  shaking,  "  it  is  that  man  or 
me.  The  country  won't  hold  us  both." 

"  Then,  Carroll,  let  me  tell  you,  you  had  better 
move  out,  for  that  man  won't  move  till  he  wants  to. 
Why,  bless  my  soul,  man,  he  could  grind  you  up  in 
his  hands.  And  as  for  nerve — well,  I  have  seen  some 
in  my  professional  career,  but  never  such  as  his.  My 
advice  to  you  is,  do  not  trifle  with  him." 

"  Blank  his  sowl !  I'll  be  even  wid  him,"  said  Car- 
roll, pouring  out  a  stream  of  oaths. 

"  Dad."  The  weak  voice  seemed  to  pierce  through 
Carroll's  curses  like  a  shaft  of  light  through  a  dark 
room. 

Carroll  dropped  on  his  knees  by  the  bedside  in  a 
rush  of  tears. 

"Ah,  Patsy,  my  Patsy!  Is  it  your  own  voice  I'm 
hearin'?" 


THE  PRESIDENT  OF  GUY'S,  LONDON  233 

"  Dad,  darlin',  ye  didn't  mane  it,  did  ye,  dad?  " 

"What,  Patsy?" 

"  To  hit  me." 

"Ah,  may  God  forgive  me!  but  it's  meself  would 
sooner  die  than  strike  ye." 

The  little  lad  drew  a  deep  breath  of  content. 

"  And  the  big  man,"  he  said.  "  He  put  out  his 
hand  over  me.  Ye  didn't  hurt  him,  dad,  did  ye  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  Patsy,  darlin',"  said  the  big  Irishman, 
burying  his  face  in  the  pillow.  "  Speak  to  your  dad 
again  wid  your  lovely  voice." 

"  Now,  Carroll,"  said  the  doctor  in  a  stern  whisper. 
"  That  is  enough.  Not  a  word  more.  Do  you  want 
to  kill  your  child?" 

Carroll  at  once  with  a  tremendous  effort  grew 
still,  stroking  the  white  hand  he  held  in  his,  and  kiss- 
ing the  golden  curls  that  streamed  across  the  pillow, 
whispering  over  and  over,  "  Patsy,  darlin' ! "  till  the 
doctor,  hardened  as  he  was  to  scenes  like  this,  was 
forced  to  steal ,  out  from  the  room  and  leave  them 
together. 


XIV. 

THE  OLD  PROSPECTOR'S  AWAKING 

FOR  six  weeks  the  Old  Prospector  lay  fretting 
his   life   away    in    his    shack,    not    so    ill   as 
to  be  in  danger.       The  pneumonia  had  al- 
most  disappeared   and   the   rheumatism   had 
subsided,  but  yet  such  grave  symptoms  remained  as 
made  the  doctor  forbid  his  setting  forth  upon  his 
annual  quest  of  the  Lost  River.     In  these  days  his 
chief  comfort  was  Shock,  whose  old  habit  of  sharing 
his  experiences  in  imagination  with  those  who  could 
not  share  them  in  reality,  relieved  for  the  Old  Pros- 
pector many  a  monotonous  hour. 

But  Shock's  days,  and  most  of  his  nights,  even, 
were  spent  upon  the  trail  rounding  up  "  strays  and 
mavericks,"  as  Ike  said,  searching  out  the  lonely 
bachelor  shacks,  and  lonelier  homes  where  women  dwelt 
whose  husbands'  days  were  spent  on  the  range,  and 
whose  nearest  neighbour  might  be  eight  or  ten  miles 
away,  bringing  a  touch  of  the  outer  world,  and  leav- 
ing a  gleam  of  the  light  that  he  carried  in  his  own 
sunny,  honest  face. 

And  so  Shock  soon  came  to  know  more  of  the  far 
back  settlers  than  did  even  the  oldest  timer;  and, 
what  was  better,  he  began  to  establish  among  them 
some  sort  of  social  life.  It  was  Shock,  for  instance, 


OLD     PROSPECTOR'S     AWAKING 

that  discovered  old  Mrs.  Hamilton  and  her  two  sons, 
and  drove  her  after  much  persuasion  eight  miles  over 
"  The  Rise,"  past  which  she  had  not  set  her  foot  for 
the  nine  long,  sad  years  that  had  dragged  out  their 
lonely  length  since  her  husband  left  her  alone  with 
her  two  boys  of  seven  and  nine,  to  visit  Mrs.  Mac- 
namara,  the  delicate  wife  of  the  rollicking  Irish 
rancher,  who,  seldom  out  of  the  saddle  himself,  had 
never  been  able  to  understand  the  heart-hunger  that 
only  became  less  as  her  own  life  ran  low.  It  was 
her  little  family  growing  up  about  her,  at  once  drain- 
ing her  vitality  but,  thank  God,  nourishing  in  her 
heart  hope  and  courage,  that  preserved  for  her  faith 
and  reason.  It  was  a  great  day  for  the  Mac- 
namaras  when  their  big  friend  drove  over  their 
next  neighbour,  Mrs.  Hamilton,  to  make  her  first 
call. 

Another  result  of  Shock's  work  became  apparent 
in  the  gradual  development  of  Loon  Lake,  or  "  The 
Lake,"  as  it  was  most  frequently  named,  into  a  centre 
of  social  life.  In  the  first  place  a  school  had  been 
established,  in  which  Marion  had  been  installed  as 
teacher,  and  once  the  children  came  to  the  village  it 
was  easier  for  the  parents  to  find  their  way  thither. 

Every  week,  too,  The  Kid  and  Ike  found  occasion 
to  visit  The  Lake  and  call  for  Shock,  who  made  his 
home,  for  the  most  part,  with  the  Old  Prospector. 
Every  week,  too,  the  doctor  would  appear  to  pay  a 
visit  to  his  patients ;  but,  indeed,  in  some  way  or  other 
the  doctor  was  being  constantly  employed  on  cases 
discovered  by  Shock.  The  Macnamara's  baby  with 


236  THE    PROSPECTOR 

the  club-foot.  Scrub  Kettle's  girl  with  the  spinal 
trouble;  Lawrence  Delamere,  the  handsome  young 
English  lad  up  in  "The  Pass,"  whose  leg,  injured  in 
a  mine  accident,  never  would  heal  till  the  doctor  had 
scraped  the  bone — these  and  many  others  owed  their 
soundness  to  Shock's  prospecting  powers  and  to  the 
doctor's  skill.  And  so  many  a  mile  they  drove  to- 
gether to  their  mutual  good.  For,  while  the  doctor 
prosecuted  with  delight  and  diligence  his  healing  art, 
all  unconsciously  he  himself  was  regaining  something 
of  his  freedom  and  manhood. 

"Digs  'em  up,  don't  he?"  said  Ike  one  Sunday, 
when  the  second  flat  of  Jim  Ross's  store  was  filled 
with  men  and  women  who,  though  they  had  lived  in 
the  country  for  from  two  to  twenty  years,  were  still 
for  the  most  part  strangers  to  each  other.  "Digs 
*em  up  like  the  boys  dig  the  badgers.  Got  to  come 
out  of  their  holes  when  he  gits  after  'em." 

"Dat's  so,"  said  Perault,  who  had  become  an  ar- 
dent f ollower  of  Shock's.  "  Dat's  so.  All  same  lak 
ole  boss." 

"Prospector,  eh?"  said  Ike. 

66  Oui.  Prospector,  sure  enough,  by  gar !  "  replied 
Perault,  with  the  emphasis  of  a  man  who  has  stumbled 
upon  a  great  find;  and  the  name  came  at  once  to  be 
recognised  as  so  eminently  suitable  that  from  that 
time  forth  it  stuck,  and  all  the  more  that  before 
many  weeks  there  was  none  to  dispute  the  title  with 
him. 

All  this  time  the  Old  Prospector  fretted  and  wasted 
with  an  inward  fever  that  baffled  the  doctor's  skill, 


OLD     PROSPECTOR'S     AWAKING    237 

and  but  for  the  visits  of  his  friends  and  their  con- 
stant assurances  that  next  week  would  see  him  fit.  the 
old  man  would  have  succumbed. 

"  It's  my  opinion,"  said  Ike,  who  with  The  Kid  had 
made  a  habit  of  dropping  in  for  a  visit  to  the  sick 
man,  and  then  would  dispose  themselves  outside  for  a 
smoke,  listening  the  while  to  the  flow  of  song  and 
story  wherewith  his  daughter  would  beguile  the  old 
man  from  his  weariness ;  "  it's  my  opinion  that  it 
aint  either  that  rheumatism  nor  that  there  pew- 
monia," — Ike  had  once  glanced  at  the  doctor's  label 
which  distinguished  the  pneumonia  medicine  from 
that  prescribed  for  rheumatism, — "  it  aint  either  the 
rheumatism  nor  that  there  pewmonia,"  he  repeated, 
"  that's  a-killin'  him." 

"What  then  do  you  think  it  is,  Ike?"  said 
the  doctor,  to  whom  Ike  had  been  confiding  this 
opinion. 

"It's  frettin';  frettin9  after  the  trail  an'd  the 
Lost  River.  For  thirteen  years  he's  chased  that  river, 
and  he'll  die  a-chasin'  it." 

"Well,  he'll  certainly  die  if  he  starts  after  it  in 
his  present  condition." 

"  Maybe  so,  doctor.  I  wouldn't  interdict  any  opin- 
ion of  yours.  But  I  reckon  he'd  die  a  mighty  sight 
easier." 

"  Well,  Ike,  my  boy,"  said  the  doctor  in  his  gentle 
voice,  "  perhaps  you  are  right,  perhaps  you're  right. 
The  suggestion  is  worth  considering." 

And  the  result  seemed  to  justify  Ike's  opinion,  for 
from  the  day  that  the  doctor  fixed  the  time  for  the 


238  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Old  Prospector's  departure  the  fever  abated,  his  phil- 
osophic calm  returned,  he  became  daily  stronger  and 
daily  more  cheerful  and  courageous,  and  though  he 
was  troubled  still  with  a  cough  he  departed  one  bright 
day,  with  Perault,  in  high  spirits. 

"  I  shall  remember  you  all,"  he  cried,  waving  his 
hand  gaily  in  farewell.  "  Doctor,  I  shall  build  you  a 
hospital  where  your  skill  will  have  opportunity  and 
scope.  Mr.  Macgregor,  your  heart  will  be  delighted 
with  that  church-manse-school  building  of  yours." 
This  was  Shock's  pet  scheme  for  the  present.  "  To 
all  of  you  suitable  rewards.  This  time  I  see  success. 
Farewell." 

After  he  had  turned  away  he  reined  back  his  pony 
and  addressed  Shock  again. 

"  Mr.  Macgregor,"  he  said,  with  almost  solemn 
earnestness,  "  I  give  my  daughter  into  your  charge. 
I  am  sure  you  will  watch  over  her.  She  will  be  com- 
fortable with  Josie,  and  she  will  be  safe  under  your 
care." 

His  spirit  of  enthusiastic  confidence  caught  all  the 
crowd  standing  by,  so  that  they  gave  him  a  hearty 
cheer  in  farewell. 

"  Did  not  say  what  he  would  give  us,  eh,  Carroll?  " 
said  Crawley,  who  with  Carroll  stood  at  the  back  of 
the  crowd. 

"  Blanked  old  fool ! "  growled  Carroll. 

"  And  yet  he  has  a  marvellous  instinct  for  mines," 
said  Crawley,  "and  this  time  he  has  got  something 
more  than  usual  in  his  head,  I  believe.  He  has  been 
particularly  secretive.  I  could  not  get  anything  out 


OLD     PROSPECTOR'S     AWAKING 

of  him.  Guess  he  means  to  euchre  us  out  of  our  share 
of  anything  big,  partner." 

"  Curse  him  for  an  owld  thief ! "  said  Carroll.  "  I'll 
have  it  out  av  his  hide,  so  I  will,  if  he  tries  that." 

"Then,  Carroll,  you'll  have  to  do  it  when  his  big 
friend  is  not  round." 

Carroll's  answer  was  a  perfect  flood  of  profanity, 
copious  enough  to  include  not  only  the  Old  Pros- 
pector, Shock,  all  the  relatives  living  and  dead,  but 
Crawley,  who  stood  listening  with  a  sarcastic  grin  on 
his  evil  face. 

"Well,  well,"  at  last  said  Crawley  soothingly, 
"your  time  will  come.  And,  partner,  you  may  de- 
pend on  me  when  it  comes.  I  owe  him  something,  too, 
and  I  would  rather  pay  it  than  get  a  mine." 

The  days  that  followed  the  Old  Prospector's  de- 
parture were  lonely  enough  for  his  daughter.  Her 
father's  illness  had  brought  to  them  both  the  ines- 
timable boon  of  mutual  acquaintance  and  affection. 
It  was  the  girl's  -  first  experience  of  having  near  her 
one  to  whom  she  could  freely  give  the  long-hoarded 
treasures  of  her  love;  and  now  that  he  was  gone  she 
could  only  wonder  how  she  could  have  lived  so  long 
without  him.  It  was  well  for  her  that  she  had  her 
school,  which  she  transferred  now  to  her  father's 
house,  for  though  Shock  occupied  the  inner  room  he 
was  very  little  at  home. 

In  addition  to  the  school  there  was  Patsy,  who, 
never  very  strong,  had  not  regained  even  his  puny 
strength  since  the  operation.  Every  fine  day  Marion 
would  take  the  little  lad  for  a  glorious  canter  up  the 


240  THE    PROSPECTOR 

trail  that  ran  along  The  Lake,  but  the  day  was  never 
complete  to  Patsy  unless  it  included  a  visit  to  the 
Jumping  Rock,  and  there  a  tale,  and  at  least  one 
song.  In  these  rides  Stanton,  as  often  as  he  visited 
the  village,  would  join,  and  then  it  was  the  Swallow 
that  the  little  cripple  would  ride,  holding  his  reins  in 
cowboy  style  high  in  one  hand,  and  swaying  with 
careless  security  in  the  saddle,  and  all  the  more  be- 
cause of  the  strong  arm  about  him. 

These  were  happy  days  to  Patsy,  happy  to  young 
Stanton,  happier  than  she  knew  to  Marion,  and  all 
the  happier  by  contrast  to  the  dark,  sad  days  that 
followed. 

About  three  weeks  after  the  Old  Prospector's  de- 
parture a  half-breed,  on  a  cayuse  wet  and  leg-weary, 
appeared  at  the  Loon  Lake  Stopping  Place,  asking 
for  the  preacher. 

"Blanked  if  I  know!"  growled  Carroll.  "Off  on 
some  fool  hunt  or  other." 

"  Ask  Ike  there,"  said  Crawley,  who  was  sitting  on 
the  stoop.  "  You  belong  to  his  flock,  don't  you,  Ike? 
Elder,  aint  you?" 

"His  flock?"  echoed  Ike.  "Wouldn't  mind  if  I 
did.  I'd  be  sure  of  my  company,  which  I  can't  al- 
ways be  almost  anywhere  else.  Wantin*  the  preacher, 
eh?"  turning  to  the  half-breed. 

"Letter  from  de  old  man." 

"What  old  man?  Let  me  see  it,"  said  Crawley 
quickly.  "  Ah !  '  Rev.  Mr.  Macgregor,  or  one  of  his 
friends.'  Guess  this  is  from  the  Old  Prospector.,  eh?  " 

The  half-breed  nodded. 


OLD    PROSPECTOR'S     AWAKING  S41 

"Where  is  he?" 

"Way  up  in  mountain,"  he  said,  waving  his  hand 
toward  the  hills. 

"Well,  the  preacher  isn't  here.  It  must  be  im- 
portant," continued  Crawley.  "  I  suppose  I  might 
as  well  open  it,  especially  as  it  is  likely  it  will  be 
something  about  outfit.  Eh,  Carroll  ?  " 

He  was  about  to  tear  the  letter  open  when  Ike  in- 
terposed. 

"Hold  up,  there.  It  strikes  me  you're  a  little 
rapid  in  your  conclusions.  Let's  have  a  look  at  the 
letter." 

Crawley  very  unwillingly  gave  it  up. 

"  One  of  his  friends,"  read  Ike,  with  some  difficulty^ 
"  You  count  yourself  in  there,  do  you  ?  "  to  Crawley. 
"You'd  be  mighty  lucky  if  he  agreed  with  you  on 
that  there  point.  Now  I  judge  this  ought  to  go  to 
the  preacher  or,  if  he  aint  round,  to  the  young  lady." 

So  saying,  Ike,  without  another  glance  at  the  dis- 
appointed Crawley,  strode  away  with  the  letter  to 
find  Marion. 

He  found  her  busy  in  the  school.  She  read  the 
letter,  looked  at  Ike  with  white  face  and  wide-open  eyes, 
read  it  a  second  time,  and  said,  "  He  wants  Mr.  Mac- 
gregor,  quick — and  me.  He  is  ill.  Oh,  Ike!"-  she 
cried  suddenly,  "  he  is  ill,  and  Mr.  Macgregor  is 
away." 

"Where  did  he  go?"  said  Ike  shortly. 

"  I  heard  him  say  to  Willow  Creek,  to  the  Martins. 
The  doctor  is  with  him." 

"The  Martins,  eh?    Why,  that's  only  eight  milesj, 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

I  reckon.  Well,  git  yourself  ready  and  your  horse, 
I'll  be  back  in  an  hour  and  a  half." 

He  turned  away,  but  after  he  had  gone  a  few 
steps  he  strode  back. 

"  No  use  lookin'  like  that,"  he  said  almost  gruffly. 
"We'll  git  a  wagon  and  bring  him  home  easy.  A 
wagon's  easier  than  ridin',  though  'taint  likely  he's 
very  bad." 

"  Bad ! "  exclaimed  Marion,  with  a  sob.  "  Oh,  Ike* 
you  don't  know  my  father.  If  he  were  not  bad  he 
would  not — "  Here  her  voice  failed  her. 

"  Don't  you  worry,  miss.  We'll  be  on  the  trail  in 
two  hours.  And  look  here,  we'll  want  beddin'  and  lots 
of  things,  so  hustle."  And  Ike  set  off  with  long  strides. 
"  Hustle's  the  word  for  her.  Got  to  keep  her  busy, 
poor  girl ! "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Guess  he's  a  goner. 
You  bet  that  old  chap  don't  weaken  for  no  belly-ache. 
He's  right  bad." 

The  only  wagon  in  the  place  belonged  to  Carroll. 

"Want  your  wagon  and  outfit,  Carroll,"  said  Ike 
briefly.  "Old  Prospector's  pretty  bad.  Got  to  get 
him  home." 

Carroll  growled  a  refusal.  He  had  never  recov- 
ered his  wonted  good  nature  since  his  encounter  with 
Shock,  and  his  resentment  against  the  one  man 
seemed  to  poison  his  whole  nature  against  all. 

"What!"  said  Ike,  amazed  at  Carroll's  refusal, 
In  that  country  men  in  need  of  anything  helped  them- 
selves without  reference  to  the  owner. 

"Why,  sure,  Carroll,"  interposed  Crawley  hastily. 
"You'll  let  Ike  have  that  wagon.  I  tell  you  what, 


OLD    PROSPECTOR'S     AWAKING 

I'll  drive  it  for  him»v  (Shut  up,  Carroll!"  he  said  in 
an  aside.  "  When  do  you  start,  Ike?  Two  hours? 
I'll  be  there." 

In  an  hour  and  a  half,  true  to  his  word,  Ike  was 
back  with  Shock  and  the  doctor.  Before  another 
half  hour  had  gone  past  they  were  all  on  the  trail, 
Marion  riding  her  pony,  Shock  and  the  doctor  in 
the  buckboard,  and  Crawley  driving  the  wagon,  in 
which,  besides  mattress  and  bedding,  were  saddles  for 
use  when  the  trail  should  forbid  wheels. 

After  long  hesitation  Ike  decided  that  he  ought 
not  to  join  the  party. 

"  That  there  Crawley,"  he  argued  to  himself, 
"  aint  to  be  trusted,  especially  when  he's  goin'  round 
lookin'  like  a  blank  hyena.  But  I  guess  I'll  have  to 
let  him  go  and  git  back  to  the  ranch."  And  so  with 
an  uneasy  feeling  Ike  watched  them  set  off. 

Half-way  back  to  the  ranch  he  met  his  boss. 

"  Hello,  Ike,"  saluted  The  Kid  gaily.  "You're 
needing  a  powder.  Off  your  feed,  eh?  " 

"Howdy,  boss,"  replied  the  cowboy  gravely. 
"  I'm  f  eelin'  proper  enough,  but  there's  others  not  so 
frisky." 

"What's  up,  Ike?     Your  grandmother  poorly?" 

"Well,  do  you  know,"  said  Ike,  watching  The  Kid 
keenly  with  his  half  shut  eyes,  "  there's  been  a  great 
mix-up  at  The  Lake  there.  A  breed,  half  dead 
with  the  saddle,  came  from  the  Old  Prospector  askin' 
for  the  preacher.  Guess  the  old  chap's  about  quittin' 
the  trail." 

The  Kid's  hand  tightened  on  the  reins. 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Hit  him  there,  I  reckon,"  grunted  Ike  to  himself, 
but  the  other  paid  no  attention.  "  So,"  continued 
Ike,  "  they've  all  gone  off." 

"Who?" 

"Why  the  hull  town,  seemingly.  There's  the 
preacher,  and  the  doctor,  and  that  there  Crawley 
with  Carroll's  wagon  outfit.  They  looked  a  little 
like  a  circus,  except  that  there  wan't  any  wild  ani- 
mals. Unless  you'd  count  Crawley  for  a  monkey, 
which  would  be  rather  hard  on  the  monkey,  I  guess." 
Ike  chuckled,  a  rare  chuckle  that  seemed  to  begin 
a  long  way  below  his  diaphragm  and  work  slowly  up 
to  his  lips. 

"  What  the  deuce  are  you  talking  about  ?  "  en- 
quired The  Kid.  "What  has  Crawley  got  to  do 
with  this?" 

"  Why,"  said  Ike  in  a  surprised  tone,  "  dunno, 
onless  he's  a  friend  of  the  old  man's.  They  do  have 
a  lot  of  business  together  seemingly.  Or  perhaps 
as  company  for  the  gel." 

"  The  girl !  Steady  there,  Swallow,"  to  his  mare, 
for  Swallow  had  given  a  sudden  spring.  "What 
girl?"  demanded  The  Kid.  "Why  don't  you  talk 
sense?  You  didn't  say  anything  about  a  girl." 

"Why,  didn't  I  mention  about  that  gel?  Well, 
I'm  gettin'  forgetful.  Why,  what  gel  do  you  think? 
They  aint  growin'  on  rose  bushes  or  old  willows  round 
here,  so  far  as  I've  seen.  Now,  how  many  gels  have  you 
observed  in  your  pilgrimages  round  that  town?" 

"Oh,  blank  you  for  an  idiot!"  said  The  Kid 
wrathfully.  "Do  you  mean  that  the — Miss  Mow- 


OLD     PROSPECTOR'S     AWAKING   245 

bray  has  gone  off  with  the  rest?"  In  spite  of  his 
splendid  self-control,  as  The  Kid  spoke  the  name  a 
red  flush  on  his  face  could  be  suddenly  seen  through 
the  brown  tan. 

Ike  nodded  gravely. 

"Yes,  she's  gone.  But  she'll  be  all  right.  The 
preacher's  there.  He'll  be  busy  with  the  old  man,  of 
course,  but  he'll  find  some  time  for  her.  And  then 
there's  the  other  chap,  you  know.  He's  been 
mighty  kind  to-day,  mighty  kind,  and  considerable, 
too.  Can't  say  as  I'd  just  cotton  to  him,  but  when 
he  likes  he's  ingraciousin'  ways,  mighty  ingraciousin' 
ways." 

"Oh!"  roared  The  Kid.  "  Crawley "  Then 

he  looked  at  his  cowboy's  face.  "  Confound  you, 
Ike !  So  you  were  pulling  my  leg  a  little,  were  you  ? 
Never  mind,  my  day  will  come." 

With  this  he  turned  the  Swallow  toward  the  Lake 
and  set  off. 

"  Good-bye,"  called  out  Ike.  "  Where  you 
going?" 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  cried  The  Kid,  wheeling  the  Swallow. 
"  What  trail  did  they  take?  " 

"  You  mean  Crawley  ?  "  inquired  Ike. 

With  a  curse  The  Kid  bore  down  upon  him. 

"  Which  way  did  they  go  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Okanagan  trail,"  said  Ike,  with  a  slow  grin.  "  So 
long." 

"  Good-bye,  Ike.  You'll  see  me  when  I  come  back." 
And  The  Kid  waved  his  hand,  and  gave  the  Swallow 
her  head. 


246  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Ike  looked  after  him,  and  allowed  himself  the  very 
unusual  indulgence  of  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  tried  to  help  Crawley  a  little, 
but  somehow  it  didn't  seem  to  go  right." 

A  tail  chase  is  a  long  chase,  and  so  The  Kid  found 
it,  for  the  speed  and  endurance  of  the  Swallow  were 
both  fully  tested  before  the  advance  party  were  over- 
taken. 

As  he  came  in  sight  of  them  he  pulled  himself  up 
with  the  question,  "What  am  I  doing  here?  What 
is  my  business  with  that  party  ?  "  For  a  mile  or  so 
he  rode  slowly,  keeping  out  of  their  sight,  trying  to 
find  such  answer  to  this  question  as  would  satisfy  not 
so  much  himself  but  those  before  him,  to  whom,  some- 
how, he  felt  an  answer  was  due.  The  difficulty  of 
explaining  his  presence  became  sensibly  greater  as 
he  pictured  himself  attempting  to  make  it  clear  to 
Crawley. 

"  It  is  none  of  his  business,  anyway,"  at  length  he 
said  impatiently.  "  She  doesn't  want  him  around. 
How  did  he  know  ?  " 

Crawley  was  a  man  of  some  parts.  He  had  money 
and  ability.  He  was  a  scholar,  and  could  talk  well 
about  rocks  and  plants.  The  Kid  had  heard  him 
discourse  to  the  Old  Prospector  and  Marion  many  a 
day  on  these  subjects,  and  intelligently,  too. 

"  Well,"  he  said  at  length,  "  I  may  be  of  some  use, 
anyway.  Surely  a  fellow  has  a  right  to  offer  his 
services  to  his  friends  in  trouble." 

With  this  explanation  on  his  lips  he  sailed  down 
upon  the  company.  Marion  and  the  half-breed  were 


OLD    PROSPECTOR'S    AWAKING   247 

riding  far  in  front,  Crawley  following  as  closely  as 
he  could  with  the  wagon.  Some  distance  in  the  rear 
were  Shock  and  the  doctor  in  the  buckboard.  The 
Kid  could  hear  Crawley  pointing  out  to  Marion  in  a 
loud  voice  the  striking  features  of  the  beauty  that 
lay  around  them  in  such  a  wealth  and  variety  of  pro- 
fusion. The  words  of  Ike  came  to  his  mind, 
"  mighty  ingraciousinV 

"  Confound  his  impudence ! "  he  growled.  "  I 
wonder  if  she  knows  the  kind  of  snake  he  is?  I  be- 
lieve I'll  tell  her,  for  her  own  sake.  No.  that  won't 
do,  either.  Well,  I  guess  I  must  wait  my  chance." 
But  the  chance  seemed  slow  in  coming. 

"  Thought  I  would  ride  after  you  and  offer — -see 
if  you — if  I  could  be  of  service." 

"And  we  are  very  glad  to  have  you,"  said  Shock 
heartily. 

"Yes,  we  found  you  useful  on  occasion  before, 
and  doubtless  shall  again,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  tone 
of  pleasant  sufferance. 

The  Kid  reined  up  behind  the  buckboard,  waiting 
for  an  excuse  to  ride  forward,  but  for  miles  finding 
none. 

"  I  wonder  now,"  said  Shock  at  length,  "  if  we  had 
not  better  stop  and  have  tea,  and  then  ride  till  dark 
before  we  camp.  If  Marion  is  not  tired  that  would 
be  the  better  way." 

"I'll  ride  up  and  ask,"  said  The  Kid  eagerly,  and 
before  any  other  suggestion  could  be  made  he  was 
gone. 

The  proposition   found  acceptance  with  Marion, 


148  THE    PROSPECTOR 

and,  what  was  of  more  importance,  with  the  half- 
breed  guide. 

If  The  Kid  had  any  doubt  of  his  reception  by  the 
girl  the  glad,  grateful  look  in  her  eyes  as  he  drew 
near  was  enough  to  assure  him  of  her  welcome;  and 
as  he  took  the  guide's  place  by  her  side  she  hastened 
to  say,  "  I  am  glad  you  came,  Mr.  Stanton.  It  was 
very  kind  of  you  to  come.  It  was  awful  riding  alone 
mile  after  mile." 

"Alone!"  echoed  The  Kid. 

"Well,  I  mean — you  know  he  cannot  talk  much 
English  and " 

"Of  course,"  promptly  replied  The  Kid,  "I  am 
awfully  glad  I  came,  now.  Wasn't  sure  just  how 
you  might  take  it.  I  mean,  I  did  not  like  pushing 
myself  in,  you  understand." 

"  Oh,  surely  one  does  not  need  to  explain  a  kind- 
ness such  as  this,"  said  the  girl  simply.  "  You  see, 
the  doctor  and  Mr.  Macgregor  are  together,  and  will 
be,  and  the  others — well,  I  hardly  know  them." 

The  trail  wound  in  and  out,  with  short  curves  and 
sharp  ascents,  among  the  hills,  whose  round  tops  were 
roughened  with  the  rocks  that  jutted  through  the 
turf,  and  were  decked  with  clumps  of  poplar  and 
spruce  and  pine.  The  world  seemed  full  of  bright- 
ness to  the  boy.  His  heart  overflowed  with  kindness 
to  all  mankind.  He  found  it  possible,  indeed,  to 
think  of  Crawley,  even,  with  a  benignant  compassion. 

Far  up  in  the  Pass  they  camped,  in  a  little  shel- 
tered dell  all  thick  with  jack  pines,  through  whose 
wide-spreading  roots  ran  and  chattered  a  little  moun~ 


OLD    PROSPECTOR'S    AWAKING   249 

tain  brook.  But  for  the  anxiety  that  lay  like  lead 
upon  her  heart,  how  delightful  to  Marion  would  have 
been  this,  her  first,  experience  of  a  night  out  of  doors. 
And  when  after  tea  Shock,  sitting  close  by  the  fire5 
read  that  evening  Psalm  breathing  a  trust  and  peace 
that  no  circumstances  of  ill  could  break,  the  spicy 
air  and  the  deep  blue  sky  overhead,  sown  with  stars 
that  rained  down  their  gentle  beams  through  the 
silent  night,  made  for  Marion  a  holy  place  where 
God  seemed  near,  and  where  it  was  good  to  lie  down 
and  rest.  "I  will  both  lay  me  down  in  peace  and 
sleep,  for  thou,  Lord,  only  makest  me  dwell  in 
safety." 

And  that  sense  of  security,  of  being  under  tender  5 
loving  care,  did  not  forsake  her  all  through  the  long 
watches  of  the  night,  and  through  the  weary  miles 
of  the  next  day's  travel  that  brought  them  at  length 
to  the  Old  Prospector's  camp. 

As  they  neared  the  camp  the  trail  emerged  out  of 
thick  bushes  into  a  wide  valley,  where  great  pines 
stood,  with  wide  spaces  between,  and  clear  of  all 
underbrush.  The  whole  valley  was  carpeted  thick 
with  pine  needles,  and  gleamed  like  gold  in  the  yel- 
low light  of  the  evening  sun.  The  lower  boughs 
under  which  they  rode  were  dead,  and  hung  with  long 
streamers  of  grey  moss  that  gave  the  trees  the  ap- 
pearance of  hoary  age. 

As  they  entered  the  valley  instinctively  they  low- 
ered their  voices  and  spoke  in  reverent  tones,  as  if 
they  had  been  ushered  into  an  assemblage  of  ancient 
and  silent  sages.  On  every  side  the  stately  pines  led 


250  THE    PROSPECTOR 

away  in  long  vistas  that  suggested  the  aisles  of  some 
,noble  cathedral.  There  was  no  sign  of  life  any- 
where, no  motion  of  leaf  or  bough,  no  sound  to  break 
the  solemn  stillness.  The  clatter  of  a  hoof  over  a 
stone  broke  on  the  ear  with  startling  discordance. 
The  wide  reaches  of  yellow  carpet  of  pine  needles, 
golden ,  and  with  black  bars  of  shadow,  the  long 
drawn  aisles  of  tall  pines,  bearing  aloft  like  stately 
pillars  the  high,  arched  roof  of  green,  the  lower 
limbs  sticking  out  from  the  trunks  bony  and  bare  but 
for  the  pendant  streamers  of  grey  moss,  all  bathed 
in  the  diffused  radiance  of  the  yellow  afternoon  light, 
suggested  some  weird  and  mighty  fane  of  a  people 
long  dead,  whose  spirits,  haunting  these  solemn  spaces, 
still  kept  over  their  temple  a  silent  and  awful  watch. 

Out  on  the  trail  they  met  Perault  in  a  frenzy  of 
anxious  excitement. 

"Tank  de  Bon  Dieu!"  he  cried  brokenly,  with 
hands  uplifted.  "  Come  wit'  me,  queek !  queek ! " 

"  Perault,  tell  us  how  your  boss  is."  The  doctor's 
voice  was  quiet  and  authoritative.  "And  tell  us 
how  long  he  has  been  ill,  and  how  it  came  on.  Be 
very  particular.  Take  plenty  of  time." 

Peraiilt's  Gallic  temperament  responded  to  the  doc- 
tor's  quiet  tone  and  manner. 

"Oui.  Bon,"  he  said,  settling  down,  "Listen  to 
me.  We  come  nice  and  slow  to  dis  place,  an'  den  we 
go  up  dat  gulch  for  little  prospect.  Good  ting,  too. 
Good  mine  dere,  sure.  But  old  boss  he  can't  stay. 
He  must  go,  go,  go.  Den  we  go  up  'noder  gulch, 
free,  four  day  more,  for  'noder  mine.  Pretty  good, 


OLD     PROSPECTOR'S     AWAKING    251 

too.  Den  one  night  we  comin'  back  to  camp,  old 
boss  feel  good.  Skeep  along  lak  small  sheep.  By 
gar,  he's  feel  too  good!  He's  fall  in  crik.  Dat's 
noting.  No!  Good  fire,  plenty  blanket  make  dat 
all  right.  But  dat  night  I  hear  de  ole  boss  groan, 
and  cry,  and  turn  overe  and  overe.  Light  de  fire ; 
give  him  one  big  drink  wheesky.  No  good.  He's 
go  bad  all  dat  night.  Nex'  day  he's  het  noting. 
Nex'  day  he's  worser  and  worser.  Wat  I  can  do  I 
can't  tell.  Den  de  Bon  Dieu  he  send  along  dat  half- 
breed.  De  ole  boss  he  write  letter,  an'  you  come  here 
queek." 

"  Thank  you,  Perault.  A  very  lucid  explanation, 
indeed.  Now,  we  shall  see  the  patient;  and  you, 
Miss  Marion,  had  better  remain  here  by  the  fire  for 
a  few  moments." 

The  doctor  passed  with  Shock  into  the  Old  Pros- 
pector's tent. 

"Mr.  Macgregor,"  cried  the  old  man,  stretching 
out  both  hands  eagerly  to  him,  "I'm  glad  you  have 
come.  I  feared  you  would  not  (be  in  time.  But 
now,"  sinking  back  upon  his  balsam  bed,  "now  all 
will  be — well." 

"  Mr.  Mowbray,"  said  Shock,  "  I  have  brought 
the  doctor  with  me.  Let  him  examine  you  now,  and 
then  we  shall  soon  have  you  on  your  feet  again." 

The  old  gentleman  smiled  up  into  Shock's  face,  a 
smile  quiet  and  content. 

"No,"  he  said  between  short  breaths,  "I  have 
taken  the  long  trail.  My  quest  is  over.  It  is  not 
for  me." 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

"Let  the  doctor  have  a  look  at  you,"  entreated 
Shock. 

"Most  certainly,"  said  the  Old  Prospector,  in  his 
wonted  calm  voice.  "Let  the  doctor  examine  me. 
I  am  not  a  man  to  throw  away  any  hope,  however 
slight." 

As  the  doctor  proceeded  with  his  examination  his 
face  grew  more  and  more  grave.  At  length  he  said, 
"It  is  idle  for  me  to  try  to  conceal  the  truth  from 
you,  Mr.  Mowbray.  You  are  a  very  sick  man.  The 
inflammation  has  become  general  over  both  lobes  of 
the  lung.  The  walls  of  the  vessels  and  the  surround- 
ing tissues  have  lost  their  vitality ;  the  vessels  are  ex- 
tremely dilated,  while  exudation  and  infiltration  have 
proceeded  to  an  alarming  extent.  The  process  of 
engorgement  is  complete." 

"Do  you  consider  his  condition  dangerous,  doc- 
tor?" said  Shock,  breaking  in  upon  the  doctor's 
technical  description. 

"In  a  young  person  the  danger  would  not  be  so 
great,  but,  Mr.  Mowbray,  I  always  tell  the  truth  to 
my  patients.  In  a  man  of  your  age  I  think  the  hope 
of  recovery  is  very  slight  indeed." 

"  Thank  you,  doctor,"  said  the  old  man  cheerfully* 
"  I  knew  it  long  ago,  but  I  am  content  that  my  quest 
should  cease  at  this  point.  And  now,  if  you  will  give 
me  a  few  moments  of  close  attention,"  he  said,  turn- 
ing to  Shock,  "  and  if  you  will  see  that  the  privacy 
of  this  tent  is  absolutely  secure,  there  is  little  more 
that  I  shall  require  of  you." 

The  doctor  stepped  to  the  door. 


OLD    PROSPECTOR'S     AWAKING 

"  Doctor,"  said  the  Old  Prospector,  "  I  do  not  wish 
you  to  go.  It  is  more  than  I  hoped,  that  there 
should  be  beside  me  when  I  passed  out  of  this  life 
two  men  that  I  can  trust,  such  as  yourself  and  Mr« 
Macgregor.  Sit  down  close  beside  me  and  listen." 

He  pulled  out  from  beneath  his  pillow  an  oil-skin 
parcel,  which  he  opened,  discovering  a  small  bag  of 
buckskin  tied  with  a  thong. 

"Open  it,"  he  said  to  Shock.  "Take  out  the 
paper."  His  voice  became  low  and  eager,  and  his 
manner  bespoke  intense  excitement. 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  the  doctor,  "this  will  be 
too  much  for  you.  You  must  be  calm." 

66  Give  me  something  to  drink,  doctor,  something 
to  steady  me  a  bit,  for  I  must  convey  to  you  the  se- 
cret of  my  life's  quest." 

The  doctor  administered  a  stimulant,  and  then, 
with  less  excitement,  but  with  no  less  eagerness,  the 
old  man  proceeded  with  his  story. 

"Here,"  he  said,  pointing  with  a  trembling  finger 
to  a  line  upon  the  paper  Shock  had  spread  before 
him,  "here  is  the  trail  that  leads  to  the  Lost  River. 
At  this  point  we  are  now  camped.  Follow  the  course 
of  this  stream  to  this  point,  half  a  day's  journey, 
not  more;  turn  toward  the  east  and  cross  over  this 
low  mountain  ridge  and  you  come  to  a  valley  that 
will  strike  you  as  one  of  peculiar  formation.  It  has 
no  apparent  outlet.  That  valley,"  said  the  Old 
Prospector,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  is  the 
valley  of  the  Lost  River.  This  end,"  keeping  his 
trembling  finger  at  a  certain  point  on  the  paper, 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

"has  been  blocked  up  by  a  mountain  slide.  The 
other  turns  very  abruptly,  still  to  the  e>>t.  Three 
mountain  peaks,  kept  in  perfect  line,  will  lead  you 
across  this  blockade  to  the  source  of  the  Lost  River." 

"Mr.  Mowbray,"  said  Shock,  "Perault  tells  us 
you  only  made  short  excursions  from  this  point  where 
we  are  now." 

"Listen,"  said  the  old  man.  "I  made  this  dis- 
covery last  year.  I  have  breathed  it  to  no  one.  My 
claim  is  yet  unstaked,  but  here,"  said  he,  taking  an- 
other small  buckskin  bag  from  his  breast,  "here  is 
what  I  found." 

He  tried  in  vain  with  his  trembling  fingers  to  undo 
the  knot.  Shock  took  the  bag  from  him  and  opened 
it  up. 

"  Empty  it  out,"  said  the  old  man,  his  eyes  glitter- 
ing with  fever  and  excitement. 

Shock  poured  forth  gold  dust  and  nuggets. 

"  There,"  he  sighed.  "  I  found  these  at  that  spot. 
Empty  the  other  bag,"  he  said  to  Shock.  "  These 
are  the  ones  given  me  by  the  Indian  so  many  years 
ago.  The  same  gold,  the  same  rock,  the  same  nug- 
gets. There  is  my  Lost  River.  I  thought  to  stake 
my  claim  this  summer.  I  ought  to  have  staked  it 
last  year,  but  a  terrible  storm  drove  me  out  of  the 
mountains  and  I  could  not  complete  my  work." 

The  old  man  ceased  his  tale,  and  lay  back  upon  his 
couch  with  closed  eyes,  and  breathing  quickly.  The 
doctor  and  Shock  stood  looking  at  each  other  in 
amazement  and  perplexity. 

"  Is  he  quite  himself?  "  said  Shock,  in  a,  low  voice,, 


OLD    PROSPECTOR'S    AWAKING   255 

The  old  man  caught  the  question  and  opened  his 
eyes. 

"Doctor,  I  am  quite  sane.  You  know  I  am  quite 
sane.  I  am  excited,  I  confess,  but  I  am  quite  sane. 
For  thirteen  years  and  more  I  have  sought  for  those 
little  pieces  of  metal  and  rock,  but,  thank  God!  I 
have  found  them,  not  for  myself,  but  for  my  girl.  I 
ruined  her  life — I  now  redeem.  And  now,  Mr. 
Macgregor,  will  you  undertake  a  charge  for  me? 
Will  you  swear  to  be  true,  to  faithfully  carry  out  the 
request  I  am  to  make  ?  " 

Shock  hesitated. 

"  Do  not  disappoint  me,"  said  the  old  man,  taking 
hold  of  Shock's  hand  eagerly  with  his  two  hands  so 
thin  and  worn  and  trembling.  "Promise  me,"  he 
said. 

"  I  promise,"  said  Shock  solemnly. 

66 1  want  you  to  follow  this  trail,  to  stake  out  this 
claim,  to  register  it  in  your  name  for  rny  daughter, 
and  to  develop  or  dispose  of  this  mine  in  the  way  that 
may  seem  best  to  yourself.  I  trust  you  entirely.  I 
have  watched  you  carefully  through  these  months, 
and  have  regained  my  faith  in  my  fellow  men  and 
my  faith  in  God  through  knowing  you.  I  will  die 
in  peace  because  I  know  you  will  prove  true,  and," 
after  a  pause,  "because  I  know  God  will  receive  a 
sinful,  broken  man  like  me.  You  promise  me  this, 
Mr.  Macgregor?"  The  old  man  in  his  eagerness 
raised  himself  upon  his  elbow  and  stretched  out  his 
hand  to  Shock. 

"  Once  more,"  said  Shock,  in  a  broken  voice,  "  I 


256  THE    PROSPECTOR 

promise  you,  Mr.  Mowbray.  I  will  do  my  best  to 
carry  out  what  you  desire,  and  so  may  God  help  me ! " 

The  old  man  sank  quietly  back  on  his  couch.  A 
smile  spread  over  his  face  as  he  lay  with  closed  eyes, 
and  he  breathed,  "  Thank  God !  I  can  trust  you  as 
if  you  were  my  son." 

"  Hark ! "  he  said  a  moment  afterwards  in  an 
anxious  whisper.  "  There  is  someone  near  the  tent." 

The  doctor  hurried  out,  and  found  Crawley  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  tent  gathering  some  sticks  for 
the  fire.  He  hastened  back. 

"  It  is  only  Mr.  Crawley,"  he  said,  "  getting  some 
jyood  for  the  fire." 

A  spasm  of  fear  distorted  the  old  man's  face. 

"  Crawley !  "  he  whispered,  "  I  fear  him.  Don't 
let  him  see — or  know.  Now  take  these  things — 
away.  I  have  done  with  them — I  have  done  with 
them!  You  will  give  my  love — to  my  daughter,"  he 
said  to  Shock  after  some  moments  of  silence. 

"  She  is  here,"  said  Shock  quietly. 

66  Here !  Now !  I  feared  to  ask.  God  is  good. 
Yes,  God  is  good." 

The  doctor  stepped  out  of  the  tent.  The  old  man 
lay  with  eager  eyes  watching  the  door. 

Swiftly,  but  with  a  step  composed  and  steady,  his 
daughter  came  to  him. 

"Father.  I  ami  here,"  she  said,  dropping  on  her 
knees  beside  him. 

"My  daughter!"  he  cried  with  a  sob,  while  his 
arms  held  her  in  a  close  embrace.  "My  daughter! 
my  daughter !  God  is  good  to  us." 


OLD    PROSPECTOR'S    AWAKING   257 

For  a  long  time  they  remained  silent  with  their 
arms  about  each  other.  Shock  moved  to  the  door. 
The  girl  was  the  first  to  master  her  emotions. 

"Father,"  she  said  quietly,  "the  doctor  tells  me 
you  are  very  ill." 

"  Yes,  my  daughter,  very  ill,  but  soon  I  shall  be 
better.  Soon  quite  well." 

The  girl  lifted  up  her  face  quickly. 

"Oh,  father!"  she  cried  joyfully,  "do  you 

think "  The  look  on  her  f&ther's  face  checked 

her  joy.  She  could  not  mistake  its  meaning.  She 
threw  herself  with  passionate  sobs  on  the  ground  be- 
side him. 

"Yes,  my  daughter,"  went  on  the  old  man  in  a 
clear,  steady  voice,  "  soon  I  shall  be  well.  My  life 
has  been  for  years  a  fevered  dream,  but  the  dream 
is  past.  I  am  about  to  awake.  Dear  child,  I  have 
spoiled  your  life.  We  have  only  a  few  precious 
hours  left.  Help  me  not  to  spoil  these  for  you." 

At  once  the  girl  sat  up,  wiped  her  eyes,  and  grew 
still. 

"  Yes,  father,  we  wiU  not  lose  them." 

She  put  her  hand  in  his. 

"You  make  me  strong,  my  daughter.  I  have 
much  to  say  to  you,  much  to  say  to  you  of  my  past." 

She  put  her  fingers  on  his  lips  gently. 

"Is  that  best,  father,  do  you  think?"  she  said, 
looking  lovingly  into  his  face. 

He  glanced  at  her  in  quick  surprise.  She  was  a 
girl  no  longer,  but  a  woman,  wise  and  strong  and 
brave. 


258  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,  my  daughter.  But  you 
will  remember  that  it  was  for  you  I  lived  my  lonely 
life,  for  you  I  pursued  my  fevered  quest.  You  were 
all  I  had  left  in  the  world  after  I  had  laid  your 
mother  in  her  grave.  I  feared  to  bring  you  to  me. 
Now  I  know  I  need  not  have  feared.  Now  I  know 
what  I  have  missed,  my  daughter." 

"  We  have  found  each  other,  dear,  dear  father," 
the  girl  said,  and  while  her  voice  broke  for  a  moment 
in  a  sob  her  face  was  bright  with  smiles. 

"Yes,  my  daughter,  we  have  found  each  other  at 
length.  The  doors  of  my  heart,  long  closed,  had 
grown  rusty,  but  now  they  are  wide  open,  and  gladly 
I  welcome  you." 

There  was  silence  for  some  minutes,  then  the  old 
man  went  on,  painfully,  with  ever  shortening  breath. 
"  Now,  listen  to  me  carefully."  And  then  he  told  her 
the  tale  of  his  search  for  the  Lost  River,  ending  with 
the  eager  exclamation :  "  And  last  year  I  found  it. 
It  is  a  mine  rich  beyond  my  fondest  hopes,  and  it  is 
yours.  It  is  yours,  my  daughter." 

"Oh,  father,"  cried  the  girl,  losing  herself  for  a 
moment,  "  I  don't  want  the  mine.  It  is  you  I  want." 

"  Yes,  my  daughter,  I  know  that  well,  but  for  the 
present  it  is  not  the  will  of  God  that  I  should  be  with 
you,  and  I  have  learned  that  it  is  good  to  trust  to 
Him,  and  without  fear  I  give  you,  my  daughter,  to 
His  care." 

Again  the  girl  grew  steady  and  calm. 

"Call  Mr.  Macgregor  and  the  doctor,  my  dear," 
her  father  said.  "  These  gentlemen  alone,"  he  con- 


OLD     PROSPECTOR'S     AWAKING    259 

tinued  when  they  had  come  to  him,  "hold  my  secret. 
Even  Perault  does  not  know  all.  He  knows  the  val- 
ley which  we  explored  last  year,  but  he  does  not  know 
it  is  the  Lost  River.  Mr.  Macgregor  has  promised 
to  see  the  claim  staked.  Perault  will  guide  him  to 
it.  This  paper,"  taking  a  packet  from  his  breast, 
"is  my  will.  In  it  a  full  disposal  is  made  of  all. 
Now  I  will  sign  it." 

The  paper  was  duly  signed  and  witnessed.  With 
a  sigh  of  content  the  old  man  sank  back  upon  his 
bed. 

"  Now  all  is  done.     I  am  well  content." 

For  some  time  he  lay  with  closed  eyes.  Then, 
waking  suddenly,  he  looked  at  Shock  and  said: 
"  Carry  me  out,  Mr.  Macgregor.  Carry  me  out 
where  I  can  see  the  trees  and  the  stars.  Through 
long  years  they  have  been  my  best  friends.  There, 
too,  I  would  lie  in  my  long  sleep." 

They  made  a  bed  of  boughs  and  skins  for  him  be- 
fore the  camp-fire,  and  out  into  the  dry,  warm  night 
Shock  carried  him.  In  the  wide  valley  there  still 
lingered  the  soft  light  of  the  dying  day,  but  the 
shadows  were  everywhere  lying  deeper.  Night  was 
rapidly  drawing  up  her  curtains  upon  the  world. 
The  great  trees  stood  in  the  dim  light  silent,  solemn, 
and  shadowy,  keeping  kindly  watch  over  the  valley 
and  all  things  therein.  Over  the  eastern  hill  the 
full  moon  was  just  beginning  to  rise.  The  mingled 
lights  of  silver  and  gold  falling  through  the  trees 
lent  a  rare,  unearthly  loveliness  to  the  whole  scene. 

The  Old  Prospector,  reclining  on  his  couch,  let 


260  THE    PROSPECTOR 

his  eyes  wander  over  the  valley  and  up  through  the 
trees  to  the  sky  and  the  stars,  while  a  smile  of  full 
content  rested  on  his  face. 

"  It  is  a  lovely  night,  dear  father,"  said  his  daugh- 
ter, quick  to  interpret  his  thought. 

"  Yes,  my  daughter,  a  rare  night.  Often  have  I 
seen  such  nights  in  this  very  spot,  but  never  till  to- 
night did  their  full  joy  enter  my  heart.  My  life 
was  one  long,  terrible  unreality.  To-night  the 
world  is  new,  and  full  of  loveliness  and  all  peace." 

Then  he  lay  in  long  silence.  The  doctor  came 
near,  touched  his  wrist,  listened  to  the  beating  of  his 
heart,  and  whispered  to  his  daughter,  "  It  will  not 
be  long  now." 

The  old  man  opened  his  eyes.  "You  are  near, 
my  daughter,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  father,  dear,  I  am  here,"  she  replied,  press- 
ing his  hand  between  hers. 

"  Could  you  sing  something,  do  you  think  ?  " 

The  girl  drew  in  her  breath  sharply  as  with  a  sob 
of  pain. 

"  No,"  said  her  father.  "  Never  mind,  my  daugh- 
ter. It  is  too  much  to  ask." 

"  Yes,  yes,  father,  I  will  sing.  What  shall  I 
sing?" 

"  Sing  Bernard's  great  hymn,  'The  world  is  very 
evil.' " 

It  was  a  hymn  she  had  often  sung  for  him,  select- 
ing such  of  its  verses  as  were  more  familiar,  and  as 
expressed  more  nearly  the  thought  in  their  hearts. 

As  she  began  to  sing  the  doctor  passed  out  beyond 


OLD    PROSPECTOR'S    AWAKING  261 

the  firelight  to  the  side  of  the  tent.  There  he  found 
Stanton,  with  his  head  bowed  low  between  his  knees. 

"My  boy,5'  said  the  doctor,  "that  is  very  beau- 
tiful, but  it  is  very  hard  to  bear." 

"  Yes,"  said  Stanton.  "  I'm  a  baby.  I  would  like 
to  help  her,  but  I  cannot." 

"  Well,  my  boy,  she  needs  no  help  that  either  you 
or  I  can  give." 

Perault,  the  half-breed,  and  Crawley  sat  in  silence 
at  the  other  side  of  the  fire.  Shock  remained  near 
the  girl,  wondering  at  her  marvellous  self-control. 

Verse  after  verse  she  sang  in  a  voice  low,  but  clear 
and  sweet.  As  the  refrain  occurred  again  and 
again, 

**  O  sweet  and  blessed  country,  the  home  of  God's  elect, 
O  sweet  and  blessed  country  that  eager  hearts  expect, 
Jesus,  in  mercy  bring  us  to  that  dear  Jand  of  rest*** 

the  only  change  was  that  the  song  rose  a  little  clearer 
and  fuller  and  with  deeper  tone. 

After  she  had  finished  the  camp  lay  ia  perfect 
silence. 

"Are  you  asleep,  father,  dear?"  his  daughter  said 
at  length,  but  there  was  no  reply.  She  touched  his 
hands  and  his  face. 

"Father!"  she  cried  in  a  voice  of  awe  and  fear, 
but  still  there  was  no  reply. 

The  doctor  came  hastily  into  the  light,  looked  into 
the  old  man's  face,  and  said :  "  He  is  gone." 

With  a  long,  low,  wailing  cry  the  girl  laid  herself 
upon  the  ground  by  her  father's  side  and  put  her 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

arms  around  him.  They  all  gathered  about  the 
couch,  with  the  doctor  and  Shock  standing  nearest. 

"Poor  child!"  said  the  doctor  softly,  "This  is 
a  sad  night  for  her." 

"  Yes,"  said  Shock,  in  a  voice  quiet  and  steady, 
"For  her  the  night  is  sad,  but  for  him  the  day  has 
dawned  and  there  shall  be  night  no  more." 

There,  in  that  wide  valley  where  the  yellow  pine 
aeedles  lie  deep  and  where  morning  arid  evening  the 
mingling  lights  fall  softly  through  the  over-arch- 
ing boughs,  they  laid  the  Old  Prospector  to  rest 
under  the  pines  and  the  stars  that  had  beea  his  com- 
panions'for  so  long. 


XV 

EJECTED     AND     REJECTED 

IN  the  main  room  of  the  Old  Prospector's  house 
some  ten  or  twelve  stern-faced  men  had  gathered. 
The  easy,  careless  manner  that  was  characteristic 
of  the  ranchers  and   cowboys  of  the  district  had 
given  place  to  an  air  of  stern  and  serious  determin- 
ation.    It  was  evident  that  they  had  gathered  for 
some  purpose  of  more  than  ordinary  moment.     By 
common  consent  Sinclair,  a  shrewd  and  fair-minded 
Scotch  rancher  who  possessed  the  complete  confidence 
of  every  man  in  the  company,  both  for  his  integrity 
and  his  intelligence,  was  in  the  chair. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Macgregor?  "  he  enquired. 
"  Gone  to  the  Fort,"  answered  The  Kid.  "  He  is 
on  duty  there  to-morrow.  He  wished  me  to  say,  how- 
ever, that  he  has  no  desire  to  push  this  matter,  as  far 
as  he  is  personally  concerned,  but  that  if  the  com- 
mittee thinks  the  public  good  demands  his  presence 
and  his  testimony  he  will  appear  on  Monday." 

"  He  ought  to  be  here,"  said  Sinclair,  and  his  tone 
almost  conveyed  a  reproof. 

"  He'll  come  if  he's  wanted,  I  guess,"  drawled  out 
Ike,  quick  to  take  his  friend's  part. 

"  Well,  then  let  us  proceed.     Let  us  get  the  facts 
263 


264  THE     PROSPECTOR 

first,"  said  Sinclair.  "  Stanton,  we  would  like  to  hear 
what  you  have  to  say." 

"  Well,"  said  The  Kid,  "  there  is  not  much  that  I 
have  to  tell,  but  I  shall  begin  at  the  beginning  and 
give  you  all  I  know."  Stanton's  air  of  boyish  care- 
lessness had  quite  disappeared,  his  voice  took  a  deeper 
tone  than  usual,  his  manner  was  grave  and  stern. 
"  It  was  six  days  ago  that  I  happened  to  call  at  the 
Old  Prospector's  house." 

"  To  see  the  preacher,  I  guess,"  interrupted  Ike 
gravely,  winking  at  Macnamara,  who  responded  with 
a  hearty  "  Ha !  ha !  Of  course !  " 

"  Quit  that,  Ike,"  said  Sinclair  sternly.  "  We  have 
got  business  on  hand." 

"As  I  was  saying,"  continued  the  Kid, with  height- 
ened colour,  "I  called  at  the  Old  Prospector's  house 
and  found  Miss  Mowbray  in  a  state  of  great  anxiety 
in  regard  to  Mr.  Macgregor.  She  told  me  how  the 
doctor  had  come  to  see  Mr.  Macgregor  about  a  week 
before,  in  great  excitement,  and  had  informed  him 
that  Carroll  and  Crawley  had  set  off  for  the  moun- 
tains two  days  before,  and  how,  upon  hearing  that, 
Mr.  Macgregor  and  Perault  had  hastily  followed, 
having  with  them  about  a  week's  provisions." 

"  What  reason  did  Miss  Mowbray  assign  for  this  ?  " 
enquired  Sinclair. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it's  no  secret, now,"  said  The  Kid, 
with  some  hesitation.  "  The  Old  Prospector,  you  know, 
before  his  death  had  made  a  very  rich  find,  but  died 
without  staking  his  claim.  The  secret  of  its  location 
he  entrusted  to  Mr.  Macgregor  and  the  doctor.  The 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED    265 

doctor,  in  a  fit  of  drunkenness,  gave  the  secret  away 
to  Carroll  and  Crawley,  who,  leaving  him  incapable 
from  drink,  set  off  at  once  to  stake  the  claim." 

"  Hold  on,  Mr.  Stanton,"  said  Sinclair.  "  We  must 
be  careful.  How  do  you  know  their  purpose  in  set- 
ting off  for  the  mountains  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  think " 

"  But,"  interrupted  Sinclair,  "  we  must  have  state- 
ments of  fact  only." 

"  Dat's  so ! "  cried  Perault  excitedly.  "  Dem  feller 
try  to  get  de  Ole  Boss  show  dat  mine,  for  sure.  Craw- 
ley  he's  try  to  mak  de  Ole  Boss  tell.  I  hear  heem,  me. 
Dem  feller  want  dat  mine  bad." 

"  All  right,  Perault,"  said  Sinclair  quietly.  "  That 
doesn't  prove  they  went  to  stake  that  claim.  Go  on, 
Stanton." 

"  Well,"  continued  The  Kid,  "  I  set  off  at  once,  and 
on  my  second  day  out  I  met  these  two  men,  Mr.  Mac- 
gregor  and  Perault,  exhausted  with  travelling  and 
faint  with  hunger." 

"  Guess  you'd  better  tell  how  you  found  them,  Kid," 
said  Ike,  who  had  heard  the  story  before. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  continued  The  Kid,  his  voice 
shaking,  "  it  was  a  pretty  tough  sight,  I  can  tell  you. 
I  first  saw  them  a  long  way  down  the  trail.  Mr.  Mac- 
gregor  was  carrying  Perault  on  his  back  and  evi- 
dently walking  with  great  difficulty.  When  I  came 
up  to  them  I  found  Perault  was  almost,  if  not  quite, 
insensible,  and  Mr.  Macgregor  in  the  last  stages  of 
exhaustion."  The  Kid  paused  a  few  moments  to 
steady  his  voice.  Low,  deep  oaths  were  heard  on 


266  THE     PROSPECTOR 

every  side,  while  Perault,  still  weak  and  nervous  from 
his  recent  terrible  experience,  was  sobbing  audibly. 

"  I  had  plenty  of  grub,"  continued  The  Kid.  "  I 
did  my  best  for  them  and  helped  them  home.  That 
is  all  I  have  to  say." 

A  deep  silence  fell  upon  the  group  of  men. 

"  Now,  Perault,"  said  Sinclair,  "  tell  us  your 
story." 

Perault  tried  to  steady  his  voice,  but,  failing 
utterly,  broke  into  passionate  weeping,  Sinclair  wait- 
ing in  grave  silence  for  him  to  recover.  Macnamara, 
the  soft-hearted  big  Irish  rancher,  was  quietly  wiping 
his  eyes,  while  the  other  men  were  swearing  terrible 
oaths. 

"  Give  him  a  drink,"  drawled  Ike.  "  Too  much 
water  aint  good  for  no  man." 

Half  a  dozen  flasks  were  immediately  offered.  Pe- 
rault drank,  and,  after  a  few  moments,  began  his  tale. 

"  I  can'  spik  much,  me,"  he  said,  "  when  I  tink  how 
dat  beeg  feller  pack  me  on  hees  back  twenty  mile,  I 
fin'  bad  pain  here,"  striking  his  breast,  "  and  den  I 
can'  spik  at  all."  And  again  the  little  Frenchman's 
voice  broke  down  in  sobs. 

"  Take  time,  Perault,"  said  Sinclair  gravely.  "  We 
want  to  know  all  about  it.  Begin  at  the  beginning  and 
tell  it  in  your  own  way."  The  grave  tone,  even  more 
than  the  whisky  he  had  drunk,  steadied  Perault,  and 
he  began  again. 

"  Dat's  twelve  or  tirteen  day,  now.  De  Preachere, 
dat  Prospector,  I  call  heem,  he's  jus'  lak  de  Ole  Boss, 
for  sure — de  Prospector  he's  sen'  dat  ole  fool  doctor 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED    267 

for  me  queek.  I  come  and  fin'  de  Prospector  he's 
ver'  mad;  mos'  awful  mad;  never  see  heem  lak  dat 
before.  '  Perault,'  he  say,  '  get  ponee  and  grub 
queek.  We  go  for  de  Los'  Reever.' 

"  By  gar !  He's  mak  me  scare.  I  get  ponee  an* 
grub  and  get  off  queek,  toute  suite,  right  away. 
Well,  we  go  two  day  hard  and  come  to  de  camp  where 
de  Ole  Boss  he's  die,  den  we  climb  over  de  montin. 
De  Prospector  he's  got  map  and  show  me  trail.  Oui, 
I  know  him  bon,  fus  rate.  *  Perault,*  he  say,  'you 
min'  las'  year  de  Ole  Boss  he's  fin'  good  mine  way  up 
in  de  valley  ?  '  '  Oui,  for  sure.'  *  You  know  de  trail  ?  ' 
*  Oui,  certainment.'  '  Den,'  he  say,  '  we  go  dere.' 
Nex'  day  we  strike  dat  trail  and  go  four  or  five  mile. 
We  come  to  dat  valley — Mon  Dieu!  dere's  no  valley 
dere.  We  come  back  and  try  once  more — dat  blank 
valley,  she's  no  dere.  De  Prospector  he  look  much 
on  dat  map.  '  Where  dose  tree  peak?  '  he  say.  *  Dere 
sure  'nuff,  one,  two  tree.  Dat  valley  she's  right  on 
line  of  dose  peak.'  '  Sure,'  I  say.  '  I  see  heem  myself 
she's  gone  now  for  sure !  Ah !  Voila !  I  see !  Beeg 
slide  feel  dat  valley  up!  By  gar!  Dat's  so,  dat 
montin  she's  half  gone,  dat  valley  he's  full  up.  Mon 
Dieu !  De  Prospector  he's  lak  wiP  man.  '  Perault,' 
he  say,  '  I  promise  de  ole  man  I  go  for  fin'  dat  mine.' 
'All  right,  boss,'  I  say,  'me  too.'  We  make  cache 
for  grub,  we  hobble  de  ponee  and  go  for  fin'  dat  mine. 
Dat's  one  blank  hard  day.  Over  rock  and  tree  and 
hole  and  stomp  he's  go  lak  one  deerhoun.'  Next  day 
he's  jus'  same.  For  me,  I'm  tire'  out.  Well,  we  come 
home  to  camp,  slow,  slow,  hungree,  soref  oot — by  gar ! 


268  THE     PROSPECTOR 

Sacre  bleu!  Dat  cache  she  broke  up,  de  grub  he's 
gone!  Mon  Dieu!  dat's  bad — four  or  five  day  walk 
from  home  and  no  grub  at  all.9' 

"  What  did  you  think,  Perault?  "  asked  Sinclair. 
"  Did  you  see  signs  of  any  beast,  bear  or  mountain 
lion?" 

"  Sure,  dat's  what  I  tink  f  us'  ting,  but  de  Pros- 
pector he's  walk  aroun'  quiet  and  look  everyting. 
'  Perault,  dat's  f onee  ting,'  he  say.  '  Where  dose  can' 
meat,  eh?'  By  gar!  dat's  so,  de  bear  he  can'  eat 
dose  can'  meat,  not  moche ! " 

"  Not  likely,  not  bein'  a  goat,"  put  in  Ike  drily. 

"  Well,  we  look  aroun'  ver'  close,  no  scratch,  no 
track.  By  gar !  dat's  no  bear,  for  sure — dat's  one  bear 
on  two  leg." 

"  I  think,"  said  Sinclair  gravely,  "  that  there  is  no 
doubt  of  that.  The  question  is,  who  did  it  ?  Gentle- 
men, it  has  been  proved  that  these  two  men,  Carroll 
and  Crawley,  were  away  during  the  week  when  this 
crime  took  place.  We  do  not  know  where  they  were, 
but  we  must  be  fair  to  them.  We  may  have  our  opin- 
ions about  this,  but  in  fixing  the  responsibility  of  this 
crime  we  must  be  exceedingly  careful  to  deal  justly 
with  every  man.  I  suggest  we  call  Carroll." 

Carroll  came  to  the  meeting  without  hesitation,  and 
with  him,  Crawley. 

"  We  will  take  you  in  a  few  minutes,"  said  Sinclair 
to  Crawley. 

"  Now,"  he  continued  to  Carroll,  when  Crawley  had 
been  removed,  "  we  would  like  to  know  where  you 
were  last  week." 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED    269 

"  That's  nobody's  blank  business,"  said  Carroll. 

An  angry  murmur  arose  from  the  crowd. 

"  Carroll,  this  thing  is  too  serious  for  any  bluffing, 
and  we  are  going  to  see  it  through.  It  is  fair  that 
you  should  know  why  we  ask.  Let  me  give  you  the 
facts  we  have  found  out."  Sinclair  gave  a  brief  re- 
sume of  the  story  as  gathered  from  Stanton  and 
Perault.  As  Carroll  listened  his  face  grew  white 
with  fury. 

"Does  any  blank,  blank  son  of  a  horse  thief,"  he 
cried,  when  Sinclair  had  done,  "say  I  am  the  man 
that  broke  open  that  cache?  Let  him  stand  up  for- 
ninst  me  and  say  so."  He  gnashed  his  teeth  in  his 
rage.  "  Whin  Tim  Carroll  goes  to  git  even  wid  a 
man  he  doesn't  go  behind  his  back  fur  it,  and  yez  all 
know  that !  No,"  he  cried,  planting  his  huge  fist  with 
a  crash  upon  the  table,  "  I  didn't  put  a  finger  on  the 
cache  nor  his  ponies  ayther,  begob  1 " 

"  All  right,  Carroll,  we  are  glad  to  hear  it,"  said 
Sinclair,  in  a  cold,  stern  voice.  "  You  needn't  get  so 
wild  over  it.  You  cannot  frighten  us,  you  know. 
Every  man  here  can  give  an  account  of  his  doings  last 
week — can  you  ?  " 

"  I  can  that  same,"  said  Carroll,  somewhat  subdued 
by  Sinclair's  tone  and  manner.  "  I  am  not  afraid  to 
say  that  we  went  up  to  see  a  mine  we  heard  of." 

"You  and  Crawley,  you  mean?"  said  Sinclair 
quietly. 

"  Yes,"  continued  Carroll,  "  and  that's  fair  enough, 
too;  and  we  hunted  around  a  week  fur  it,  an'  came 
back." 


270  THE     PROSPECTOR 

"  Did  you  find  your  mine?  "  asked  Sinclair. 

"  We  did  not,  and  it's  a  blank,  blank  fool  I  was  to 
listen  to  the  yarn  of  the  drunken  old  fool  of  a 
doctor." 

"  Thank  you,  Carroll.  Now,  I  do  not  think  myself 
that  you  touched  that  cache." 

"  If  he  did,  he  will  swing  for  it,"  said  a  voice,  cool 
arid  relentless,  in  the  crowd. 

Carroll  started  a  little  as  he  heard  that  voice. 

"You  shut  up!"  said  Ike. 

"  Now,  Carroll,  we  want  you  to  answer  a  few  ques- 
tions," continued  Sinclair.  "  Mr.  Crawley  brought 
you  to  the  camp  where  the  Old  Prospector  died — is 
that  right?  " 

"He  did." 

"  And  then  you  went  east  from  that  point  over  the 
mountain  ?  " 

"  We  did,  and  I  am  telling  you  we  was  looking  for 
that  mine  we  heard  of." 

"  All  right,"  said  Sinclair.  "  How  long  did  you 
stay  in  that  neighbourhood?  " 

"A  week  or  so." 

"  Did  you  see  Mr.  Macgregor  or  Perault  while  you 
were  there  ?  " 

"  That's  none  of  your  business." 

"  You'd  better  answer,  Carroll." 

"  It  '11  be  your  business  pretty  blank  soon ! " 
drawled  the  voice  again. 

"  Shut  up !  "  said  Ike.    "  Give  him  a  chance." 

"  I  think  you'd  better  answer,"  said  Sinclair 
quietly.  "  You've  nothing  to  hide,  I  suppose  ?  " 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED    271 

"  I  haven't,"  said  Carroll  defiantly.  "  We  did  see 
them  two  walking  around,  and  we  soon  knew,  too,  that 
they  didn't  know  any  more  than  ourselves  about  that 
mine.  Thin  we  came  away." 

"  Did  you  see  their  camp  ?  " 

"  We  did.     We  passed  it  by." 

"  Did  you  stop  and  speak  to  them  ?  " 

"  No,  we  did  not ;  for  the  good  reason  they  weren't 
there." 

"Did  you  examine  the  camp  or  touch  anything?" 

"  Nivir  a  touch,  so  help  me  God ! ''  said  Carroll, 
with  great  earnestness. 

"  Then  did  you  and  Crawley  come  away  together?  " 

"We  did." 

"  Where  did  you  camp  that  night  ?  " 

"  Over  the  mountain  beyarit,  f orninst  the  Old  Pros- 
pector's grave." 

"  And  you  came  straight  home  next  day  ?  " 

"  We  did,  except  for  a  luk  at  a  couple  of  prospects 
we  knew  of." 

"  Oh !     How  long  did  that  take  you?  " 

"  It  tuk  me  about  a  day,  and  Crawley  a  little  less, 
I'm  thinkin'." 

"How  was  that,  Carroll?"  enquired  Sinclair. 

"  Well,  he  tuk  one  gulch  and  I  tuk  the  other,  and 
he  got  through  before  me,  and  the  next  day  we  came 
home ;  and  that's  the  truth  of  it,  so  help  me." 

"  Then  you  were  never  separated  from  each  other 
except  for  that  one  day?  " 

"  That's  true."  There  was  no  mistaking  the  sin- 
cerity and  honesty  of  Carroll's  manner. 


THE     PROSPECTOR 

"  Any  further  questions  to  ask,  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  How  long  did  you  stop  at  Mr.  Macgregor's  camp 
when  you  was  passing  by  ?  "  asked  Ike. 

"  Don't  be  so  blanked  smart,  Ike !  "  said  Carroll,  in 
savage  scorn.  "  I'm  telling  you  that  I  didn't  stop  a 
f  ut.  We  saw  their  camp  and  their  ponies  and  we  went 
sthraight  past." 

"  Didn't  stop  to  light  your  pipe  or  nothing?  "  en- 
quired Ike. 

"  Blank  your  blank  ugly  mug ! "  roared  Carroll, 
"  do  you  mean  to  say " 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  said  Ike  quietly.  "  Just  wanted  to 
know  how  long  you  stopped  ?  " 

"  And  I  am  tellin'  you  we  didn't  sthop  atall,  atall, 
not  a  f  ut  of  us !  We  didn't  go  near  their  camp  within 
fifty  yards." 

"  Not  fifty  yards,  eh?     Well,  that's  strange." 

Carroll  poured  out  a  volley  of  oaths. 

"You're  sure  about  that  fifty  yards,  Carroll?" 
asked  Ike,  in  insinuating  tones. 

"  I  didn't  pace  it,  you  blanked  fool !  but  I'll  swear 
it  wasn't  more  than  thirty." 

"  You're  dead  sure  about  that  thirty  yards,  Car- 
roll ?  "  persisted  Ike. 

"  I  am  that,  and  if  you  want  to  say  anything  more 
come  outside ! "  said  Carroll,  glaring  wildly  at  his 
interlocutor. 

"  Oh,  thanks,  I'm  comfortable,"  said  Ike  mildly,  as 
he  sat  back  in  his  chair.  "Hope  you  are  the 
same." 

"  That  will  do,  Carroll,"  said  Sinclair.    "  I  am  sure 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED 

we  all  feel  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  straightfor- 
ward answers.     If  we  want  you  again  we'll  send  for 

you." 

"  And  I'll  come,"  said  Carroll,  with  another  oath, 
passing  out  of  the  room. 

"  Now,"  said  Sinclair,  "  we'll  have  Crawley." 

In  a  few  moments  Crawley  came  in,  smiling  and 
self-confident,  with  plenty  of  nerve,  an  abundance  of 
wit,  and  a  most  ingenuous  manner.  He  met  the  chair- 
man's questions  with  ready  assurance  and  corrobo- 
rated the  story  told  by  Carroll.  He  would  frankly 
acknowledge  that  he  had  heard  about  the  Lost  River. 
Indeed,  he  had  been  more  or  less  interested  in  it  for 
some  years  and,  though  he  did  not  take  much  stock  in 
the  doctor's  word,  still  he  declared  that  his  own  inter- 
ests and  the  interests  of  Miss  Mowbray,  and  indeed 
of  all  concerned,  demanded  that  the  thing  was  worth 
looking  into.  They  visited  the  locality  indicated  by 
the  doctor;  they  spent  a  week  in  exploration,  but 
could  find  no  trace  of  such  a  valuable  mine  as  the 
doctor  had  descried;  and  they  had  come  away  not 
very  much  disappointed;  they  had  hardly  expected 
any  other  result.  They  had  seen  Mr.  Macgregor's 
camp,  but  they  had  not  approached  it;  they  passed 
by  at  some  distance,  leaving  everything  undis- 
turbed. 

"  You  camped  that  night  near  the  Old  Prospector's 
grave  ?  "  asked  Sinclair. 

"Yes." 

"  The  next  day  you  set  off  for  home?  " 

"Exactly." 


THE     PROSPECTOR 

"You  and  Carroll  were  always  together?" 

"  Certainly." 

"You  came  home  by  the  same  trail  and  without 
any  other  explorations  ?  " 

Here  Crawley  hesitated  a  moment.  "Well,  yes, 
except  that  we  ran  up  a  gulch  to  look  at  some  rocks." 

"  Oh !     Did  you  find  anything?  " 

"Well,  we  think  so,"  said  Crawley  pleasantly. 

"You  went  both  together  up  the  gulch?  You 
were  never  separated  ?  " 

"We  went  together,  yes." 

"Any  further  questions,  gentlemen?" 

For  a  time  there  was  no  response,  then  Ike  came 
slowly  forward  to  the  table  and  stood  by  Crawley's 
side. 

"  You  did  not  go  near  that  cache  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Crawley  firmly. 

"Are  you  mighty  sure  about  that?  Better  be 
sure." 

"  I  am  positive  we  did  not  go  within  twenty  or 
thirty  yards,"  said  Crawley  defiantly. 

"  All  right,  Crawley,"  drawled  Ike,  "  better  have  a 
pipe  now."  And  as  he  spoke  he  threw  down  a  tobacco 
pouch  on  the  table. 

Crawley  turned  pale,  gripped  at  the  table  to  steady 
himself,  gazed  at  the  pouch  lying  before  him  for  a 
few  moments  and  then  enquired  in  a  voice  that  shook 
in  spite  of  all  that  he  could  do:  "Who  gave  you — 
where  did  you  get  that?  " 

"It's  yours,  aint  it?  Got  your  name  on,  any- 
way," said  Ike.  "  Where  did  you  leave  it?  " 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED    275 

"Don't  know,"  said  Crawley,  turning  green  with 
terror. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Ike,  addressing  the  crowd,  "  I 
aint  agoiii'  to  make  no  speech  to  this  jury,  but  I 
want  to  remark  that  this  here  blank  reptile  is  a  blank 
liar,  and  if  he  aint  a  murderer  'taint  his  fault.  That 
there  pouch  of  his,"  continued  Ike,  putting  a  long 
forefinger  down  upon  the  article  lying  on  the  table, 
"  that  there  pouch  of  his  was  found  by  the  '  Pros- 
pector,' as  Perault  calls  him,  beside  that  there  empty 
cache.  That's  all  I  have  to  say."  And  Ike  turned  and 
walked  slowly  back  to  his  seat. 

In  vain  the  trembling  wretch  tried  first  to  bluster 
and  then  to  explain.  Carroll  was  again  summoned 
and  affirmed  emphatically  that  he  and  Crawley  had 
been  separated  for  the  greater  part  of  one  day,  and 
that  while  together  they  had  not  approached  Mr. 
Macgregor's  camp. 

"  That  will  do,  Carroll,"  said  Sinclair  quietly.  "  We 
believe  you  entirely,  and  I  would  like  to  say  that  for 
my  part  I  am  mighty  glad  that  you  are  entirely  freed 
from  suspicion." 

"  That's  so,  you  bet ! "  came  from  the  men  on  all 
sides,  as  one  by  one  they  stepped  forward  to  shake 
Carroll  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Sinclair,  "  make  your  de- 
cision. This  man,"  pointing  to  Crawley,  "  is  charged 
with  a  serious  crime.  What  is  your  verdict  ?  " 

One  by  one  the  men.  threw  into  the  hat  on  the  table 
a  bit  of  paper.  In  silence  Sinclair  and  The  Kid  read 
and  recorded  the  ballots.  When  they  had  finished 


276  THE     PROSPECTOR 

Sinclair  stood  up,  looking  sternly  at  Crawley,  and 
said: 

"Mr.  Crawley,  this  Committee  say  unanimously 
that  you  are  guilty.  Have  you  anything  to  say 
before  sentence  is  pronounced?" 

The  wretched  creature  fell  on  his  knees  with  tears 
and  cries  entreating  mercy. 

"  Take  him  away,"  said  Sinclair  sternly.  "  Now, 
gentlemen,  what  have  you  to  say?  What  shall  be 
done  to  this  man  whom  you  have  decided  to  be  guilty 
of  murder  ?  " 

The  discussion  which  followed  was  long  and  bitter. 
Sinclair  and  those  who  had  come  more  recently  to  the 
country  were  for  handing  him  over  to  the  police. 

"  What's  the  good  of  that,  Sinclair  ? "  demanded 
Macnamara,  one  of  the  old-timers. 

"Well,  he'll  get  justice  sure;  he'll  get  sent  up." 

"  Don't  know  about  that,"  said  Ike.  "  You  see,  you 
can't  prove  anything  but  stealin',  and  you  can't  prove 
that,  for  sure.  They'll  take  him  down  to  Regina,  and 
they  aint  going  to  give  him  much  down  there  for 
stealin'  a  little  grub." 

"Well,  what  do  you  propose?"  said  Sinclair. 

"  Well,"  said  Ike,  "  hangin's  too  good  for  him.  He 
ought  to  be  hung,  but  'taint  the  custom  in  this  here 
country,  I  understand,  and  I  surmise  we'd  better 
scare  the  daylights  out  of  him  and  give  him  twelve 
hours  to  get  out." 

After  some  further  discussion  Ike's  proposition  was 
accepted.  That  night  four  masked  men  took  Craw- 
ley out  of  the  room  where  he  had  been  kept  a  prisoner 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED    277 

and  led  him  out  of  the  village  and  up  the  trail  to  the 
woods,  and  there,  unheeding  his  prayers  and  cries  and 
groans,  they  made  solemn  preparations  for  his  exe- 
cution. In  the  midst  of  their  preparations  Sinclair, 
with  a  number  of  others,  came  galloping  up  and  de- 
manded the  prisoner's  release,  and  after  a  long  and 
bitter  discussion  it  was  finally  agreed  that  Crawley 
should  be  given  twelve  hours  to  leave  the  country, 
which  decision  was  joyfully  and  tearfully  accepted 
by  the  terror-stricken  wretch. 

"Hello,  old  man,  there's  a  letter  for  you  in  my 
rooms.  Thought  you'd  be  in  tc-day,  so  took  care  of  it 
for  you."  Father  Mike  drew  near  Shock's  buckboard 
and  greeted  him  cordially.  "  By  Jove !  what's  the 
matter  with  you?  What  have  you  been  doing  to 
yourself?"  he  exclaimed,  looking  keenly  into  Shock's 
face. 

"  I  am  rather  seedy,"  said  Shock.  "  Played  out,  in- 
deed." And  he  gave  Father  Mike  an  account  of  his 
last  week's  experience. 

"Great  Caesar!"  exclaimed  Father  Mike,  "that 
was  a  close  thing.  Come  right  along  and  stretch 
yourself  out  of  my  couch.  A  cup  of  tea  will  do  you 
good."  Shock,  gladly  accepting  the  invitation,  went 
with  him. 

"  There's  your  letter,"  said  Father  Mike,  as  he  set 
Shock  in  his  deep  armchair.  "  You  read  it  while  I 
make  tea." 

The  letter  was,  as  Father  Mike  had  said,  a  fat  one. 
It  was  from  his  Convener  and  ran  thus : 


278  THE     PROSPECTOR 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  MACGREGOR  : 

"  The  enclosed  letter  from  the  Superintendent  will 
explain  itself.  You  are  instructed  to  withdraw  forth- 
with your  services  from  the  Fort.  I  know  you  will 
be  disappointed.  This  is  the  sort  of  thing  that 
makes  our  work  in  the  West  depressing :  not  big  bliz- 
zards nor  small  grants,  but  failure  on  the  part  of 
Eastern  men  to  understand  our  needs  and  to  appre- 
ciate the  tremendous  importance  of  these  years  to  the 
West.  Never  mind,  our  day  will  come.  I  regret 
greatly  that  the  Committee  should  have  been  influ- 
enced by  the  petition  enclosed.  Do  not  let  this  worry 
you.  The  Superintendent's  P.  S.  is  due  to  some  mis- 
understanding. I  have  written  him  on  this  matter. 
We  know  some  of  your  difficulties  and  we  have  every 
confidence  in  you,"  etc.,  etc. 

From  the  Superintendent's  letter  the  Convener  had 
enclosed  the  following  extracts : 

"  It  has  been  decided  to  withdraw  our  services  from 
the  Fort.  I  had  a  stiff  fight  in  the  Committee,  but 
failed;  they  were  all  against  me.  Dr.  Macfarren 
especially  so — had  private  information  (from  his 
brother,  I  suppose) ;  presented  a  petition,  which  find 
enclosed;  protested  against  the  waste  of  funds,  etc., 
etc.  This  precious  petition,  by  the  way,  seemed  to 
influence  the  Committee  greatly.  I  need  not  tell  you 
it  failed  to  influence  me,  unless  indeed  as  an  evidence 
of  the  need  of  our  services  in  that  place.  You  and  I 
have  seen  this  sort  of  thing  before  in  the  West. 


EJECTED    AND   REJECTED    279 

Young  Lloyd  of  the  Park  Church,  too,  was  eloquent 
in  opposing — the  old  story,  funds  overlapping,  de- 
nominational rivalry.  These  young  men,  who  decline 
to  face  the  frontier,  would  show  better  taste  in  seek- 
ing to  learn  something  of  the  West  than  in  hamper- 
ing those  who  are  giving  their  lives  to  this  work. 
The  upholstered  seat  of  the  Park  Church  pulpit  does 
not  induce  the  liveliest  sympathy  with  the  Western 
conditions.  Meantime  the  Convener  sits  on  the  chest, 
and  the  rest  of  the  Committee  seem  to  feel  that  their 
chief  duty  lies  in  cutting  down  expenses  and  that  the 
highest  possible  achievement  is  their  meeting  the 
Assembly  without  a  deficit 

"  P.  S. — Dr.  Macfarren  hinted  a  good  deal  at  want 
of  tact  on  the  part  of  our  Missionary,  and  young 
Lloyd,  who  knows  Macgregor,  seemed  to  consider  this 
quite  possible.  Our  Missionary  must  not  antagonise 
men  unnecessarily,  Send  him  this  letter  if  you  think 
well;  I  always  like  to  deal  frankly  with  our  men," 
etc.,  etc. 

As  Shock  read  the  letters  and  glanced  at  the  petition 
his  look  of  weariness  passed  away  and  the  old  scrim- 
mage smile  came  back  to  his  face.  "  Read  that,"  he 
said,  handing  the  letters  to  Father  Mike,  who  read 
them  in  silence. 

"Withdraw!"  he  exclaimed  in  astonishment  when 
he  had  finished  reading.  "  And  why,  pray  ?  " 

66  Oh !  don't  you  see,  *  funds  overlapping,  denomi- 
national rivalry '  ?  " 

"  '  Overlapping,  rivalry,'  rot !     You  cannot  do  m^j 


280  THE    PROSPECTOR 

work  here  and  I  cannot  do  yours.  I  say,  this  petition 
would  be  rich  if  it  were  not  so  damnable,"  added 
Father  Mike,  glancing  at  the  document.  "  'Whereas, 
the  town  is  amply  supplied  with  church  services  there 
is  no  desire  for  services  by  the  Presbyterians ' — or  by 
any  others  for  that  matter,"  interjected  Father  Mike. 
"Let  us  see  who  signs  this  blessed  paper?  Macfar- 
ren.  He's  a  beautiful  churchman.  Inspector  Haynes. 
What's  he  got  to  do  with  it?  Frank,  Smith,  Crozier! 
Why,  the  thing  is  a  farce !  Not  a  man  of  them  ever 
goes  to  church.  'Whereas,  the  Presbyterians  are 
quite  unable  to  assume  any  financial  obligation  in 
support  of  a  minister.'  Why,  the  whole  outfit  doesn't 
contribute  a  dollar  a  month.  Isn't  it  preposterous, 
a  beastly  humbug!  Who  is  this  young  whipper- 
snapper,  Lloyd,  pray?  "  Father  Mike's  tone  was  full 
of  contempt. 

Shock  winced.  His  friend  had  touched  the  only 
place  left,  raw  by  the  letter.  "  He  is  a  college  friend 
of  mine,"  he  answered  quickly.  "  A  fine  fellow  and  a 
great  preacher." 

"Oh!"  replied  Father  Mike  drily.  "I  beg  par- 
don. Well,  what  will  you  do?  " 

"Withdraw,"  said  Shock  simply.  "I  haven't 
made  it  go,  anyway." 

"Rot!"  said  Father  Mike,  with  great  emphasis. 
"  Macf arren  doesn't  want  you,  and  possibly  the  In- 
spector shares  in  that  feeling, — I  guess  you  know 
why, — but  you  are  needed  in  this  town,  and  needed 
badly." 

But  Shock  only  replied:     "I  shall  withdraw*     I 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED 

have  been  rather  a  failure,  I  guess.  Let's  talk  no 
more  about  it." 

"  All  right,  old  chap,"  said  Father  Mike.  "  Come 
along  to  tea.  I  wish  to  Heaven  there  were  more  fail- 
ures like  you  in  the  country," 

Shock's  last  service  at  the  Fort  marked  his  emanci- 
pation as  a  preacher  of  the  Gospel.  Hitherto  the 
presence  of  those  whom  he  knew  to  be  indifferent  or 
contemptuously  critical  had  wrought  in  him  a  self- 
consciousness  that  confused  his  thought,  clogged  his 
emotion,  and  hampered  his  speech.  This  night  all 
was  changed.  The  hall  was  full;  the  Inspector  and 
his  wife,  with  the  men  from  the  barracks,  Macfarren 
and  his  followers,  General  Brady  and  his  gracious, 
sweet-faced  wife,  were  all  there.  Ike  and  The  Kid — 
whose  ranch  lay  halfway  between  the  Lake  and  the 
Fort — had  ridden  in,  and  far  back  in  the  dim  dark- 
ness of  a  corner  sat  the  doctor.  As  Shock  stood  up 
and  looked  into  the  faces  of  the  men  before  him  and 
thought  of  their  lives,  lonely,  tempted,  frankly 
wicked,  some  of  them  far  down  in  degradation,  he  for- 
got himself ,  his  success,  or  his  failure.  What  mattered 
that!  How  petty  seemed  now  all  his  considerations 
for  himself !  Men  were  before  him  who  by  reason  of 
sin  were  in  sore  need  of  help.  He  believed  he  had 
what  they  needed.  How  to  give  it  to  them,  that  was 
the  question.  With  this  feeling  of  sympathy  and 
compassion,  deepened  and  intensified  by  a  poignant 
sense  of  failure,  Shock  stood  up  to  deliver  to  them  his 
last  message.  He  would  speak  the  truth  to-night, 
and  speak  it  he  did,  without  a  tinge  of  embarrassment 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

or  fear.  As  his  words  began  to  flow  he  became  con- 
scious of  a  new  strength,  of  a  new  freedom,  and  the 
joy  of  his  new  strength  and  freedom  swept  him  along 
on  a  full  tide  of  burning  speech.  He  abandoned  his 
notes,  from  which  he  had  hitherto  feared  to  be  far 
separated;  he  left  the  desk,  which  had  been  to  him  a 
barricade  for  defence,  and  stood  up  before  the  people, 
His  theme  was  the  story  of  the  leprous  mUn  who  dared 
to  come  to  the  Great  Healer  in  all  the  hideousness  of 
his  disease  and  who  was  straightway  cleansed.  After 
reading  the  words  he  stood  facing  them  a  few  mo- 
ments in  silence  and  then,  without  any  manner  of  in« 
troduction,  he  began: 

"  That's  what  you  want,  men.  You  need  to  be  made 
clean,  you  need  to  be  made  strong."  The  people 
stared  at  him  as  if  he  had  gone  mad,  it  was  so  unlike 
his  usual  formal,  awkward  self.  Quietly,  but  with 
intense  and  serious  earnestness,  he  spoke  to  them  of 
their  sins,  their  drunken  orgies,  their  awful  profanity, 
their  disregard  of  every  tiling  religious,  their  open 
vices  and  secret  sins. 

"  Say,"  said  Ike  to  The  Kid,  who  sat  next  to  him, 
"  they'll  be  gettin*  out  their  guns  sure ! "  But  there 
was  no  anger  in  the  faces  lifted  up  to  the  speaker? 
the  matter  was  too  serious  for  anger  and  the  tone  was 
too  kindly  for  offence.  Without  hesitation  Shock 
went  on  with  his  terribly  relentless  indictment  of  the 
men  who  sat  before  him.  Then,  with  a  swift  change 
of  tone  and  thought,,  he  cried  in  a  voice  vibrating  with 
compassion : 

"  And  you  cannot  help  it,  men  1     The  pity  of  it  iss 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED 

you  cannot  help  it !  You  cannot  change  your  hearts ; 
you  love  these  things,  you  cannot  shake  them  off,  they 
have  grown  upon  you  and  have  become  your  fixed 
habits.  Some  of  you  have  tried:  I  know  you  have 
had  your  periods  of  remorse  and  you  have  sought  to 
escape,  but  you  have  failed." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  then  continued  in  a  voice 
humble  and  remorseful: 

"  I  have  failed,  too.  I  thought  in  my  pride  and  my 
folly  that  I  could  help  you,  but  I  have  failed.  We 
have  failed  together,  men — what  then  is  before  us  ?  " 

His  voice  took  a  deeper  tone,  his  manner  was  ear- 
nestly respectful  and  tenderly  sympathetic,  as  he  set 
before  them  the  Divine  Man,  so  quick  to  sympathise, 
so  ready  and  so  powerful  to  help. 

"  He  is  the  same  to-night,  men !  Appeal  to  Him  and 
He  will  respond  as  He  did  to  this  poor  leprous  man." 

Over  and  over  again  he  urged  this  upon  them,  heap- 
ing argument  upon  argument,  seeking  to  persuade 
them  that  it  was  worth  while  making  the  attempt. 

"  Say,  boss,  seems  reasonable,  don't  it,  and  easy, 
too?  "  said  Ike  to  The  Kid,  who  was  listening  with  face 
pale  and  intent.  The  Kid  nodded  without  moving 
his  eager  eyes  from  the  speakers  face. 

"But  I  can't  just  git  the  throw,  quite,"  continued 
Ike,  with  a  puzzled  air. 

"  Hush,  listen !  "  said  The  Kid  sharply.  Shock  had 
paused  abruptly.  For  a  few  moments  he  stood  look- 
ing into  the  eyes  of  the  men  gaping  back  at  him  with 
such  intense  eagerness;  then  leaning  forward  a  little 
he  said  in  a  voice  low,  but  thrilling  with  emotion: 


284  THE     PROSPECTOR 

"  Does  any  man  here  think  his  father  or  mother  has 
forgotten  him  or  does  not  care  what  happens  to 
him?" 

Shock  was  thinking  of  his  own  dear  old  mother, 
separated  from  him  by  so  many  leagues  of  empty 
prairie,  but  so  near  to  him  in  love  and  sympathy. 

"Does  any  man  think  so?"  he  repeated,  "and  do 
you  think  your  Father  in  Heaven  does  not  care  ?  Oh ! 
do  not  think  so !  "  His  voice  rose  in  a  cry  of  entreaty. 
The  effect  was  tremendous. 

"  God  in  Heaven,  help  me ! "  cried  The  Kid  to  him- 
self with  a  sob  in  his  voice. 

"  Me  too,  boss,"  said  Ike  gravely,  putting  his  hand 
on  the  other's  knee. 

Shock's  farewell  was  as  abrupt  as  his  beginning. 
In  a  single  sentence  he  informed  them  that  the  services 
would  be  discontinued  at  this  end  of  the  field.  He 
wished  he  could  have  served  them  better;  he  knew  he 
had  failed;  he  asked  their  forgiveness  as  he  had 
already  asked  it  of  his  God ;  but,  though  he  had  failed, 
he  commended  them  to  Him  who  had  never  failed  any 
man  appealing  to  Him  for  help. 

There  was  no  hymn,  but  in  a  simple,  short  prayer 
the  service  was  closed,  and  before  the  congregation 
had  recovered  from  their  amazement  Shock  had 
passed  out  through  the  back  door. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  blanked!  "  said  Ike,  with  a  gasp. 

"  Quit  that,  Ike,"  said  The  Kid  sharply.  "  Look 
here — I  am  going  to  quit  swearing  right  now,  so 
help  me." 

"  All  right,  boss,  I'm  with  you ;  put  it  there." 


EJECTED    A1STD    REJECTED    285 

Then  above  the  hum  of  conversation  General 
Brady's  voice  was  heard: 

"  Gentlemeri,  it  is  my  opinion  that  we  have  lost  a 
great  man  to-night,  a  fearless  man  and  a  Christian 
gentleman." 

"  That's  my  entire  prognostication,  General,"  said 
Ike,  with  great  emphasis. 

Meantime  Shock  had  gone  searching  through  tht 
hotels  for  the  doctor,  whom  he  had  seen  slipping  out 
before  the  closing  prayer,  But  the  doctor  was  no- 
where to  be  seen,  and  in  despair  Shock  went  to  Father 
Mike.  He  found  that  gentleman  in  a  state  of  enthu- 
siastic excitement.  "  My  dear  fellow,  my  dear  fel- 
low," he  exclaimed,  "  that  was  great !  " 

"  What?  "  said  Shock  simply. 

"  That  sermon,  man.  I  would  give  my  hand  to 
preach  like  that." 

"Preach?"  said  Shock.  "  I  didn't  preach.  Did 
you  see  the  doctor?  " 

"Never  mind  the  doctor,"  said  Father  Mike. 
"  Come  in,  I  want  to  talk  with  you ;  come  in." 

"  No,  I  must  see  the  doctor." 

"  Well,  then,  wait ;  I  will  go  with  you." 

Shock  hesitated.  "  I  think  I  would  rather  go  alone, 
if  you  don't  mind,"  he  said. 

"Ail  right,  old  chap,"  said  father  Mike,  "I 
understand.  The  door's  always  open  and  the  ket- 
tle on." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Shock.  "  You  know  how  I  ap- 
preciate that,"  and  he  went  out. 

There  was  a  light  in  Macfarren's  office.     Shock 


£86  THE    PROSPECTOR 

knocked  at  the  door  and  went  in.  He  found  the 
doctor  and  Macfarren  seated  by  a  table,  upon  which 
were  glasses  and  a  bottle.  The  doctor  was  pale,  nerv- 
ous, shaking. 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Macgregor,"  said  Macfarren,  witi 
more  cordiality  than  he  had  ever  shown  to  Shock  be* 
fore.  "  I  was  just  saying  to  the  doctor  that  that  wai 
a  fine  discourse,  a  very  able  discourse,  Mr.  Mac* 
gregor." 

Shock  made  no  reply,  but  stood  looking  at  the 
doctor. 

"  I  would  like  to  say,"  continued  Macfarren,  "  that 
I  regret  your  leaving  us.  I  believe,  on  the  whole,  it  is 
a  mistake;  we  require  preaching  like  that."  There 
was  a  touch  of  real  earnestness  in  Macf  arren's  tone. 

"  Mr.  Macfarren,"  said  Shock,  "  I  am  sorry  I 
have  not  been  able  to  help  you.  You  need  help,  you 
need  help  badly.  Jesus  Christ  can  help  you.  Good- 
night." He  took  the  doctor's  arm  and,  helping  him 
up,  walked  off  with  him. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  said  the  doctor  fiercely, 
when  they  were  outside. 

"  Doctor,  I  want  your  help.     I  feel  weak." 

"  Weak !  Great  Heavens  above !  You  talk  of 
weakness  ?  Don't  mock  me !  " 

"  It  is  true,  doctor ;  come  along." 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  said  the  doctor. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Shock.  "  Let  us  go  to  your 
office." 

^he  doctor's  office  was  a  cheerless  room,  dusty, 
disordered,  and  comfortless.  The  doctor  sat  down 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED    287 

in  a  chair,  laid  his  head  on  the  table,  and  groaned.  "  It 
is  no  good,  it  is  no  good.  I  tried,  I  tried  honestly. 
I  prayed,  I  even  hoped  for  a  time — this  is  all  gone! 
I  broke  my  word,  I  betrayed  my  trust  even  to  the 
dead.  All  is  lost!" 

"  Doctor,"  said  Shock  quietly,  "  I  wish  that  you 
would  look  at  me  and  tell  me  what's  the  matter  with 
me.  I  cannot  eat,  I  cannot  sleep,  and  yet  I  am  weary. 
I  feel  weak  and  useless — cannot  you  help  me?  " 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  keenly.  "  You're  not 
playing  with  me,  are  you?  No,  by  Jove!  you  are 
not.  You  do  look  bad — let  me  look  at  you."  His 
professional  interest  was  aroused.  He  turned  up  the 
lamp  and  examined  Shock  thoroughly. 

"What  have  you  been  doing?  What's  the  cause 
of  this  thing  ?  "  he  enquired,  at  length,  as  if  he  feared 
to  ask. 

Shock  gave  him  an  account  of  his  ten  days'  experi- 
ence in  the  mountains,  sparing  nothing.  The  doctor 
listened  in  an  agony  of  self-reproach. 

"It  was  my  fault,"  he  groaned,  "it  was  all  my 
fault." 

"  Not  a  word  of  that,  doctor,  please.  It  was  not  in 
your  hands  or  in  mine.  The  Lost  River  is  lost,  not  by 
any  man's  fault,  but  by  the  will  of  God.  Now,  tell 
me,  what  do  I  need?  " 

"  Nothing,  nothing  at  all  but  rest  and  sleep.  Rest 
for  a  week,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Shock,  "I  want  you  to  come 
and  look  after  me  for  a  week.  I  need  you;  you  need 
me ;  we'll  help  each  other." 


288  THE     PROSPECTOR 

"Oh,  God!  Oh,  God!"  groaned  the  doctor, 
"  what  is  the  use?  You  know  there  is  no  use." 

"Doctor,  I  told  you  before  that  you  are  saying 
what  is  both  false  and  foolish." 

"  I  remember,"  said  the  doctor  bitterly.  "  You 
spoke  of  common  sense  and  honesty." 

"  Yes,  and  I  say  so  again,"  replied  Shock.  "  Com- 
mon sense  and  honesty  is  what  you  need.  Listen — I 
am  not  going  to  preach,  I  am  done  with  that  for  to- 
night— but  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  when  a  man 
faces  the  right  way  God  is  ready  to  back  him  up. 
It  is  common  sense  to.  bank  on  that,  isn't  it?  Com- 
mon sense,  and  nothing  else.  But  I  want  to  say  this, 
you've  got  to  be  honest  with  God.  You've  not  been 
fair.  You  say  you've  prayed " 

"  God  knows  I  have,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Yes,"  said  Shock,  with  a  touch  of  scorn  in  his 
voice,  "you've  prayed,  and  then  you  went  into  the 
same  old  places  and  with  the  same  old  companions, 
and  so  you  find  yourself  where  you  are  to-night. 
You  cannot  cure  any  man  of  disease  if  he  breaks  every 
regulation  you  make  when  your  back  is  turned.  Give 
God  a  chance,  that's  all  I  ask.  Be  decently  square 
with  Him.  There's  lots  of  mystery  in  religion,  but 
it  is  not  there.  Come  along  now,  you  are  going 
home  with  me." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  doctor  decidedly.  "  I  shall 
fight  it  out  alone. 

"  Will  you  walk,  or  shall  I  carry  you?  "  said  Shock 
quietly. 

The  doctor  gazed  at  him.     "  Oh,  confound  you ! " 


EJECTED    AND    REJECTED    289 

he  cried,  "  I'll He  stopped  short  and  putting 

his  face  down  upon  the  table  again  he  burst  into  a 
storm  of  sobs  and  cried,  "  Oh,  I  am  weak,  I  am  weak, 
let  me  go,  let  me  go,  I  am  not  worth  it ! " 

Then  Shock  got  down  beside  him,  put  his  arm 
around  his  shoulder,  and  said :  "  I  cannot  let  you  go, 
doctor.  I  want  you.  And  your  Father  in  Heaven 
wants  you.  Come,"  he  continued  after  a  pause, 
"  we'll  win  yet." 

For  half  an  hour  they  walked  the  streets  and  then 
turned  into  Father  Mike's  quarters. 

"  Father  Mike,"  said  Shock,  opening  the  door,  "  we 
want  coffee,  and  I'm  hungrier  than  I've  been  for  three 
days." 

"  Come  in,"  said  Father  Mike,  with  a  keen  glance 
at  the  doctor,  "  come  in,  brother  mine.  You've 
earned  your  grub  this  day." 


XVI, 
8<STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD" 

RELIEVED  from  his  station  at  the  Fort, 
Shock  was  able  to  devote  himself  entirely  to 
the  western  part  of  his  field,  which  em- 
braced the  Loon  Lake  district  and  extended 
twenty-five  miles  up  to  the  Pass,  and  he  threw 
himself  with  redoubled  energy  into  his  work  of  ex- 
ploration and  organisation.  Long  ago  his  little 
cayuse  had  been  found  quite  unequal  to  the  task  of 
keeping  pace  with  the  tremendous  energy  of  his 
driver,  and  so  for  the  longer  journeys  Shock  had  come 
to  depend  mainly  upon  Bob,  the  great  rangey  sorrel 
sent  him  by  the  Hamilton  boys,  the  only  condition 
attached  to  the  gift  being  that  he  should  allow  Bob 
to  visit  the  ranch  at  least  once  a  month.  And  so  it 
came  that  Shock  and  his  sorrel  broncl  j  became  widely 
known  over  the  ranges  of  all  that  country.  Many  a 
little  shack  in  far  away  valleys,  where  a  woman  with 
her  children  lived  in  isolated  seclusion  from  all  the 
world,  he  discovered  and  brought  into  touch  with  the 
world  about,  and  by  means  of  books  and  magazines 
and  illustrated  papers  brought  to  hearts  sick  with 
longing  some  of  the  colour  and  brightness  from  the 
great  world  beyond,  so  often  fondly  longed  for.  Many 
a  cowboy,  wild  and  reckless,  with  every  link  of  kin- 

290 


" 


STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD"  291 


ship  broken,  an  unrelated  unit  of  humanity  keeping 
lonely  watch  over  his  bunch  of  cattle,  found  in  Shock 
a  friend,  and  established  through  him  anew  a  bond 
with  human  society.  The  hour  spent  with  Shock  in 
riding  around  the  cattle  often  brought  to  this  bit  of 
human  driftwood  a  new  respect  for  himself,  a  new 
sense  of  responsibility  for  life,  and  a  new  estimate  of 
the  worth  of  his  manhood.  Away  up  in  the  Pass,  too, 
where  the  miners  lived  and  wrought  under  conditions 
wretched;  debasing,  and  fraught  with  danger,  and 
where  in  the  forest-camps  the  lumbermen  lived  lives 
more  wholesome,  but  more  lonely,  Shock  found  scope 
for  the  full  energy  of  his  passion  to  help  and  serve. 

"  A  hospital  is  what  they  need  up  here,  doctor  !  w 
he  exclaimed  one  day  after  they  had  made  a  tour 
through  the  shacks  and  bunks  where  men  sick  and  in- 
jured lay  in  their  uncared  for  misery.  "  A  hospital 
is  what  they  want,  and  some  kind  of  a  homelike  place 
where  they  can  meet  together.  And  by  God's  help 
we'll  get  this,  too,  when  our  hands  are  somewhat  free, 
We  have  all  we  can  do  for  the  next  few  weeks.**  And 
so  they  had. 

Shock  had  early  recognised  that  the  evils  which 
were  so  rampant,  and  that  exercised  such  a  baneful  in*1 
fluence  in  the  community,  were  due  not  so  much  to 
any  inherent  love  of  vice  as  to  the  conditions  under 
which  the  men  were  forced  to  live.  Life  was  a  lonely 
thing  on  the  ranges,  without  colour,  without  variety, 
and  men  plunged  into  debauchery  from  sheer  desperate 
reaction  from  monotony.  Shock  believed  that,  if 
there  could  be  established  a  social  centre  offering  m^ 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

tellectual  interest  and  physical  recreation,  much  could 
be  done  to  banish  the  vices  that  were  fast  becoming 
imbedded  in  the  very  life  and  character  of  the  people. 
And  so  he  planned  the  erection  of  a  building  that 
would  serve  for  church,  manse,  club-house,  school- 
room, and  library,  and  would  thus  become  a  spot 
around  which  the  life  of  the  community  might  gather 
in  a  clean  and  wholesome  atmosphere.  He  appealed 
to  the  Church  Manse  Building  Fund  for  a  grant,  he 
drew  his  plans  for  his  building,  and  throughout  the 
summer  quietly  set  about  gathering  his  materials. 
One  and  another  of  his  friends  he  would  persuade  to 
haul  a  load  of  logs  from  the  hills,  and  with  good' 
natured  persistence  he  would  get  a  day's  work  now  and 
again  from  the  young  fellows  who  frequently  had 
more  time  on  their  hands  than  they  knew  how 
to  reasonably  make  use  of,  with  the  result  that  before 
they  were  well  aware  of  what  was  being  done  a  log 
building  stood  ready  for  the  roofing  and  plaster.  His 
success  stimulated  his  friends  to  more  organised  and 
continued  effort.  They  began  to  vie  with  each  other 
in  making  contributions  of  work  and  material  for  the 
new  building.  Macnamara  furnished  linre,  Martin 
drew  sand,  Sinclair  and  The  Kid,  who  had  the  best 
horses  and  wagons,  drew  lumber  from  the  mill  at  the 
Fort ;  and  by  the  time  summer  was  gone  the  building, 
roofed,  chinked,  and  plastered,  only  required  a  few 
finishing  touches  to  be  ready  for  the  opening.  In- 
deed, it  was  a  most  creditable  structure.  It  was  a 
large,,  roomy,  two-story  building,  the  downstairs  of 
which  was  given  up  to  a  room  to  be  devoted  to  public 


"STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD"  398 

uses.     The  upstairs  Shock  planned  to  contain  four 
bed-rooms. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  four  bed-rooms,  Mr.  Pros- 
pector? "  said  Ike,  as  they  were  laying  out  the  space. 
"  You  can't  sleep  in  more'n  three  of  'em  at  a  time." 

"  No,  but  you  can  sleep  in  one,  Ike,  and  some  of  the 
boys  in  another,  and  I  want  one  myself." 

"  Oh  1 "  said  Ike,  much  pleased.  "  Going  to  run  a 
kind  of  stoppin'  place,  are  you?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  hope  my  friends  will  stop  with  me  often." 
"  Guess  you  won't  have  much  trouble  with  that  side 
of  it,"  said  Ike.     "And  this  here  room,"  he  contin- 
ued, "  will  do  first  rate  for  a  kind  of  lumber-room, 
provisions,  and  harness,  and  such  like,  I  guess?  " 

"  No,"  said  Shock.  "  This  room  will  be  the  finest 
room  in  the  house.  See :  it  will  look  away  out  toward 
the  south  and  west,  over  the  lake,  and  up  to  the  moun- 
tains. The  inside  of  the  room  won't  be  hard  to  beat, 
but  the  outside  cannot  be  equalled  in  all  the  world,  and 
I  tell  you  what,  Ike,  it  cannot  be  too  good,  for  this 
room  is  for  my  mother."  There  was  a  reverent,  ten- 
der tone  in  Shock's  voice  that  touched  Ike. 

"  Is  she  really  goin'  to  come  out  here  ?  "  he  asked, 
f«  I  hope  so,"  said  Shock.     "  Next  spring." 
"  I  say,"  said  Ike,  "  won't  she  find  it  lonely?  " 
" 1  don't  think    so,"  said    Shock,    with    a    curious 
smile.    "  You  know,  my  mother  is  rather  peculiar.  For 
twenty-five  years,  without  missing  a  single  night,  she 
came  into  my  room  to  kiss  me  before  I  went  to  sleep, 
and    she's    just  that  foolish  that    if  I'm  anywhere 
around  I  don't  think  she'll  be    lonely."     And  then 


194  THE    PROSPECTOR 

Shock  proceeded  to  give  Ike  a  picture  of  his  mother* 
and  all  her  devotion  to  him  through  the  long  years  of 
his  life.  The  rough  but  tender-hearted  cowboy  was 
more  touched  than  he  cared  to  show. 

"  Say,"  he  said,  when  Shock  had  finished,  "  how 
did  you  ever  come  to  leave  her?  I  couldn't  'a5  done 
it,  nohow." 

"  She  sent  me,"  said  Shock  simply,  "  There's  One 
she  loves  better  than  me."  And  Ike  understood  with" 
out  more  explanation. 

For  the  furnishing  of  the  house,  and  for  the  equip- 
ment of  the  library  and  club-rooms,  Shock  had  ap- 
pealed to  his  friends  in  the  East  through  Brown,  to 
whom  he  gave  a  full  description  of  the  building  and 
the  purposes  for  which  it  had  been  erected.  The  re- 
sponse was  so  hearty  and  so  generous  that,  when  the 
loads  of  house-furnishings,  books,  magazines,  and 
papers  arrived,  Shock's  heart  was  full  to  overflowing 
with  gratitude,  and,  when  a  little  later  he  received 
notice  that  a  cabinet  organ  had  arrived  at  the  railroad 
depot,  he  felt  that  the  difficulties  and  trials  of  a  mis- 
sionary's life  were  few  and  small  in  comparison  with 
the  triumphs  and  rewards. 

At  length  everything  was  in  place  and  the  building 
ready  for  the  opening.  The  preparations  for  this 
great  event  were  in  the  hands  of  a  committee,  of  which 
The  Kid  was  chairman;  the  decorations  were  left  to 
Ike  and  Perault ;  the  programme  was  left  to  The  Rid, 
assisted  by  Marion,  who  had  been  persuaded  riot  only 
to  sing,  herself,  but  had  agreed  to  train  the  school 
children  in  some  action  songs.  There  was  to  be  » 


"STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD"  295 

grand  supper,  of  course, — nothing  Western  would  be 
complete  without  that  feature, — and  in  addition  to 
the  ordinary  speeches  and  musical  numbers  there  was 
to  be  a  nigger-minstrel  show  with  clog-dancing  fur- 
nished by  the  miners  and  lumbermen  from  the  Pass,  at 
Shock's  urgent  invitation.  The  whole  affair  was  to 
be  wound  up  by  a  grand  promenade  headed  by  young 
Malcolm  Forbes,  son  of  a  Highland  chief,  a  shy  young 
fellow  whom  Shock  had  dug  up  from  a  remote  valley, 
and  who  was  to  appear  in  full  Highland  costume  with 
his  pipes.  Small  wonder  that  the  whole  community, 
from  the  Fort  to  the  Pass,  was  tingling  with  delighted 
anticipation.  Such  an  event  was  not  only  important 
of  itself,  but  it  was  hailed  as  the  inauguration  of 
a  new  era  in  the  country,  for  with  church,  school, 
library,  and  club  they  would  be  abreast  of  the 
most  advanced  Eastern  civilisation. 

Not  only  were  the  people  of  the  Loon  Lake  district 
stirred  with  interest  in  the  opening  of  their  new  build- 
ing, but  to  a  far  greater  extent  than  they  knew  their 
confidence  and  even  their  affection  had  gathered  about 
the  man  to  whose  energy  the  whole  enterprise  was  due. 
During  these  months  they  had  come  to  rely  upon  his 
judgment  as  a  man  of  affairs,  to  trust  him  for  his  true 
human  heart,  and  to  regard  him  with  reverence  as  one 
touched  with  a  spirit  unlike  that  of  the  world  with 
which  they  were  familiar — a  spirit  of  generous  sym- 
pathy with  them  in  all  their  multitudinous  trials  and 
difficulties,  a  spirit  that  made  him  think  nothing  of 
himself  and  much  of  them.  He  represented  to  them 
religion  in  a  manner  at  once  winning  and  impress- 


296  THE     PROSPECTOR, 

ive,  as  few  of  them  had  ever  seen  it  represented 
before. 

At  length  the  great  day  came,  and  with  it  the  gath- 
ering of  the  people  from  all  parts  far  and  near.  A 
few  farmers  who  lived  toward  the  Fort  came  with  their 
wives  and  children  in  horse-wagons  and  ox-wagons; 
the  ranchers  with  their  families  drove  for  the  most 
part  in  democrats  and  buckboards;  but  many  of  the 
ranchers  and  their  wives  and  all  the  cowboys  came 
on  horseback.  There  had  never  been  such  a  gather- 
ing at  Loon  Lake  within  the  memory  of  the  oldest 
timer.  The  preparations  for  supper  were  elaborate 
and  impressive.  It  was  important  that  this  part  of 
the  evening's  proceedings  should  go  off  well.  As 
Shock,  passing  up  and  down,  witnessed  the  abound- 
ing hilarity  of  those  who  thronged  the  supper-tables 
his  mind  was  relieved  of  all  anxiety  as  to  the  success 
of  the  entertainment  to  follow.  With  great  difficulty 
Sinclair,  who  was  a  shy  man,  was  persuaded  to  pre- 
side as  chairman.  It  was  only  the  promise  of  Shock 
to  support  him  on  the  one  side  and  of  Father  Mike, 
who  was  almost  as  much  interested  in  the  success  of 
the  entertainment  as  Shock  himself,  on  the  other,  that 
induced  Sinclair  finally  to  accept  this  responsible  and 
honourable  position.  It  was  indeed  an  hour  of  triumph 
to  Shock  and  his  fellow-workers,  and  as  the  entertain- 
ment progressed  they  gathered  satisfaction  to  the  full 
from  the  manifestations  of  delight  on  the  part  of  the 
audience  that  packed  the  building  to  the  doors. 

After  the  entertainment  had  well  begun  a  stranger 
appeared  at  the  door  asking  for  the  minister. 


"STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD"  297 

"  Well,"  said  Ike,  who  was  performing  the  respon- 
sible duty  of  door-keeper,  "  you  can't  see  him,  not 
now.  What's  required?  " 

"  I  guess  it's  pretty  important,"  the  stranger  said. 
"  It's  a  telegram.  In  fact,  it's  bad  news,  so  Mr.  Mc- 
Intyre  of  Big  River  said." 

"  Bad  news !  "  exclaimed  Ike.  "  Mighty  bad  time 
to  bring  bad  news.  Why  couldn't  you  wait?" 

"  Some  things  can't  wait,"  said  the  man  briefly. 
"  Guess  you'd  better  read  it,  it's  open." 

"  Not  me,"  said  Ike,  shrinking  from  this  liberty. 
«  Send  for  The  Kid." 

In  a  few  moments  The  Kid  appeared  and,  taking 
the  telegram  from  Ike,  read  it. 

"  The  Lord  help  us ! "  he  exclaimed  as  he  read  the 
wire.  He  took  Ike  to  one  side  away  from  the  crowd 
and  read  him  the  words :  "  '  Your  mother  seriously 
ill.  Doctors  hold  out  no  hope  of  recovery.  Signed, 
BROWN.'  " 

"  His  mother !  Bay,  boss,  what'll  we  do  ?  He  thinks 
a  mighty  lot  of  his  mother.  I've  heerd  him  talk.  This 
will  purty  nigh  kill  him,  I  guess." 

They  stood  for  some  moments  looking  blankly  at 
each  other,  unwilling  to  deliver  the  blow  which  they 
knew  would  strike  deep  into  the  heart  of  the  man  they 
had  come  to  love. 

"  He  must  be  told,"  said  The  Kid  at  length.  "  Let's 
see — he'll  want  to  get  to  the  end  of  the  line,  anyway, 
and  that's  over  a  hundred  miles  from  here.  I  say,  Ike, 
you'd  better  tell  him,  I  guess." 

"Well,"  said  Ike  slowly,  "that  there's  a  purty 


298  THE     PROSPECTOR 

particular  bit  of  diplomatics,  and  I  aint  used  to 
it.  I  say,"  with  a  sudden  inspiration,  "  you  tell 
him." 

"  Couldn't  do  it,  Ike.  How  would  it  do  to  get 
Father  Mike  or  Sinclair?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ike  meditatively,  "  they'd  do  all  right 
if  we  weren't  here,  but  I  guess  we  belong  to  him  'most 
more  than  they  do," 

"  That's  so,  Ike,"  said  The  Kid  quickly.  «  That's 
so;  it's  one  of  us." 

"  Yes,  it's  one  of  us,"  said  Ike,  "  and  if  I  could 
do  it  well,  boss,  you  wouldn't  see  no  buck." 

"  All  right,  Ike,"  said  The  Kid,  drawing  a  long 
breath.  "  I'll  do  it." 

"  I'll  remember  it,  boss,"  said  Ike.  "  Guess  there 
aint  much  time  to  lose.  How  is  he  agoin'  to  git 
there?" 

"  Take  the  Swallow,  Ike,"  said  The  Kid.  "  She's 
good  for  a  hundred  miles." 

"  Mr.  Mclntyre's  team  will  be  ready  to  go  from 
his  place,"  said  the  stranger,  who  had  come  near. 

"  Good!  "  said  The  Kid.  "  Where  are  you  going, 
Ike?" 

"  To  git  the  horses.  He'll  want  to  git  right  off. 
I  guess  I'll  put  him  on  Slipper,  and  I'll  take  the  Swal- 
low. Slipper  rides  purty  easy,  and  he's  a  purty  big 
man." 

"  All  right,  Ike,"  said  The  Kid.  "  Remember  every 
minute  is  precious.  Here,  Mac,"  he  continued,  turn- 
ing to  Macnamara,  who  stood  looking  in  at  the  door, 
craning  his  neck  to  see  and  hear  what  was  going  on, 


S*STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD"  299 

^  slip  around  to  the  side  door  and  tell  Mr.  Macgregor 
that  I  want  him  right  away." 

In  a  few  minutes  Shock  came  running  out  in  high 
spirits,  elated  with  the  success  of  the  evening.  "  Hello, 
old  boy !  "  he  cried  to  The  Kid.  "  It's  great,  isn't  it? 
You're  a  great  concert  conductor !  What  do  you  want 
me  for  ?  " 

The  Kid  took  him  by  the  arm  and  led  him  away  an 
silence  toward  the  Old  Prospector's  shack,  which  stood 
near  by. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Stanton ;  anything  gone 
wrong?  "  Still  The  Kid  made  no  reply ;  but,  walking 
to  the  door  of  the  shack,  opened  it,  and  went  in  and  lit 
the  lamp.  "  Sit  down,"  he  said,  pushing  Shock  into 
a  chair.  "  I  have  something  to  tell  you.  There's—- 
there's bad  news,  I'm  afraid.  I'll  wait  outside.'*  He 
put  the  telegram  down,  went  hastily  out,  and  closed 
the  door,  leaving  Shock  to  face  the  blow  where  no  eye 
could  see. 

It  seemed  an  hour  to  The  Kid  before  Ike  came  up 
with  the  Swallow  and  Slipper  saddled  and  ready  for 
the  journey. 

'Where  is  he?"  said  Ike^  in  a  whisper. 

"  In  there,"  replied  The  Kid,  with  a  groan.  "  God 
help  him ! " 

"  I  guess  He  will.     He  ought  to,"  said  Ike  gravely. 

"  Got  grub,  Ike,  and  blankets?  " 

Ike  nodded,  pointing  to  the  sack  strapped  to  the 
saddle. 

"  He  ought  to  start,"  said  The  Kid  nervously0 
w  That  wire's  two  days  old  now.  It  will  take  till  to* 


300  THE     PROSPECTOR 

morrow  night  to  reach  town  even  if  everything  goes 
right,  and  every  moment  counts.  Better  go  in,"  he 
continued,  "  and  tell  him  the  horses  are  ready." 

Ike  nodded  and  went  toward  the  closed  door,  opened 
it  softly,  and  went  in.  He  found  Shock  sitting  at  the 
table  gazing  vacantly  at  the  telegram  in  his  hand 
as  if  trying  to  take  in  its  meaning,  He  looked  up 
at  Ike  as  he  entered  and,  handing  him  the  telegram, 
said: 

"  It's  my  mother,  Ike.  Do  you  remember  my 
mother?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  replied  Ike,  approaching  him  tim- 
idly and  laying  a  hand  awkwardly  on  his  shoulder. 
"  I  don't  want  to  presume,"  he  continued,  "  but  I  was 
wonderin'  if  there  was  anyone  who  could  help  you  to 
stand  it?" 

"  There  is,  there  is  One,  there  is." 

"  That's  all  right,  then,"  said  Ike,  as  if  an  im- 
portant matter  had  been  settled.  "  The  horses  are 
ready." 

"  The  horses  ?  "  said  Shock,  with  a  puzzled  air. 

"  Yes ;  thought  you'd  want  to  ride  to  town  to  get 
to  send  a  wire  or  somethin'." 

"  Of  course  I  do ;  thank  you.  I'll  go  to  her  at  once. 
What  a  fool  I  ami"  He  rose  hastily  as  he  spoke, 
changed  his  coat,  and  getting  his  hat  and  riding 
gloves  came  out  to  where  The  Kid  stood  with  the 
horses. 

"Why,  it's  the  Swallow,  and  Slipper  I"  he  said. 
"  Boys,  this  is  good  of  you." 

The  Kid  stood  without  a  word,  looking  at  Shock's 


"STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD59  801 

white,  dazed  face.  He  could  not  trust  his  voice  to 
speak. 

"  You'd  best  get  onto  Slipper,"  said  Ike.  «  Hides 
easy  and  is  mighty  sure.  The  Swallow's  all  right,  of 
course,"  he  continued  apologetically  to  The  Kid,  "  but 
a  leetle  light." 

"  But  I  don't  want  both,"  said  Shock. 

"Oh!  I  guess  I'll  go  along,"  declared  Ike.  "I 
know  the  trails  and  short-cuts  a  little  better.  Can 
save  time,  perhaps.  That  is,"  he  added,  "  if  you 
don't  mind  my  goin'  along." 

"  That's  awfully  good  of  you,  Ike,"  said  ShocL 
"  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you." 

"  Good-bye,  Kiddie,"  said  Shock  affectionately* 
holding  out  his  hand  to  The  Kid,  "  I  cannot  say 
much  just  now,  but  I  appreciate  this  kindness,  my 
boy." 

"  Don't,  don't !  "  said  The  Kid,  in  a  husky  whisper. 
**  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  could  help  you.  Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Shock,  taking  up  the  reins.  "  Oh ! 
I  say,  Kid,  don't  tell  anyone  to-night.  Keep  the  thing 
going ;  it  would  be  a  pity  to  spoil  their  fun,  you  know. 
You  can  do  this  for  me,  can't  you  ?  '* 

"  I  can  try,"  said  The  Kid,  setting  his  teeth  to- 
gether. 

He  stood  looking  after  them  as  they  went  up  the 
trail  in  the  moonlight.  "  Oh !  this  cursed  country !  w 
he  groaned.  "  It's  so  far  from  any  place.  He'D 
never  see  her  again,  I'm  sure.  Well,  I  must  keep  this 
thing  going  as  I  promised.  But  some  of  the  numbers 
FILcut  out,  you  can  bet." 


S08  THE     PROSPECTOR 

Straight  on  through  the  moonlight  rode  the  two 
men,  the  one  trying  to  make  real  the  words  that 
marched  with  ceaseless  tramp  across  his  brain :  "  Doc- 
tors hold  out  no  hope  of  recovery."  They  seemed 
like  words  of  fire  written  across  the  prairie.  The  other, 
riding  a  little  behind,  except  where  the  trail  grew 
difficult  or  indistinct,  silent  but  alert  for  opportunity 
to  offer  aid  or  show  sympathy,  governing  carefully 
the  pace  so  that  the  best  possible  speed  could  be  got 
out  of  the  superb  animals  that  with  their  swinging 
lope  covered  the  long  slopes  up  and  down.  The  mem- 
ory of  that  ride  to  Shock  in  after  years  was  like  that 
of  a  ghastly  nightmare,  a  strange  intermingling  of 
moonlight  and  shadow ;  the  murmur  of  the  night  wind 
about  his  ears ;  the  steady  beat  of  the  hoofs  upon  the 
beaten  trail ;  the  pause  at  midnight  by  the  upper  ford 
of  the  Black  Bog  to  feed  and  rest  their  horses;  and 
then  the  steady  onward  push  through  the  night  till 
the  grey  and  gold  of  the  eastern  sky  told  that  the 
morning  had  come.  He  could  never  forget  how  the 
first  beams  of  the  rising  sun  smote  his  eyes  like  the 
cut  of  a  whip  till  he  was  almost  forced  to  cry  out  in 
his  pain.  He  remembered  how  it  seemed  to  him  as  if 
he  were  in  the  grip  of  some  mysterious  force  impelling 
him  onward  in  that  unending,  relentless  lope.  An- 
other pause  at  sunrise  to  give  the  horses  breath,  and 
then  on  again  they  rode  through  that  terrible  red  light 
of  the  rising  sun,  till  at  length  in  the  still  early  fore- 
noon the  manse  of  Big  River  was  reached.  Their 
horses  were  jaded  and  leg- weary,  for  in  the  thirteen 
hours  during  which  they  had  kept  up  their  long, 


*<STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD9f  SOS 

swinging  gait  they  had  covered  more  than  a  hundred 
miles. 

The  Melntyres  were  expecting  them. 

"  We  won't  speak  about  his  mother,  dear,"  said  the 
little  woman  of  the  manse,  with  a  warm  feeling  in  her 
heart  for  the  missionary  who  had  spent  a  night  with 
them  some  seven  months  ago,  and  had  told  them  so 
simply  and  fully  of  his  life,  a  story  of  which  the 
heart  and  soul  had  been  his  mother.  "  It  hurts  to 
speak  of  these  things  for  a  while,"  she  added. 

"  Yes,  my  darling,  I  know,"  said  her  husband, 
his  eyes  lingering  tenderly  upon  the  face  looking  so 
sweet,  but  so  wan  and  pale  above  the  black  dress  and 
crepe  collar.  "  We  know,  we  know,  darling,"  he  re- 
peated, taking  her  in  his  arms.  They  were  both 
thinking  of  the  little  mound  looking  so  small  upon 
the  wide  prairie,  small  but  big  enough  to  hold  all  their 
heart's  treasure.  For  five  months  the  manse  had  been 
overrunning  with  heaven's  own  light;  and  with  joy 
that  rippled  and  flowed  from  baby  laughter,  that 
lurked  in  dimpled  fingers  and  dimpled  toes  and  dim* 
pled  cheeks,  every  dimple  a  well  of  light  and  joy — 
and  then  the  little  mound  with  its  white  railing,  and 
only  the  echoes  of  the  laughter  and  the  memory  of 
the  dimpled  fingers,  toes,  and  cheeks, — and  the  empty 
manse !  It  was  this  memory  that  made  their  welcome 
of  Shock  so  full  of  tender  understanding.  There  is 
no  speech  like  heart-speech,  and  during  the  hour  in 
the  Big  River  manse  to  Shock's  heart  there  came — 
how  he  could  not  have  told— the  inarticulate  message 
of  sympathy  that  healed  and  comforted,  so  that  ha 


804  THE     PROSPECTOR 

drove  away  rested  and  refreshed  as  with  sleep.  As 
they  were  hitching  up  the  team  Ike  found  opportunity 
to  whisper  to  Shock :  "  I  say,  p'rhaps  you'd  rather 
he'd  go  with  you;  he'd  help  you  more,  p'rhaps?  " 

"  No,  no,  Ike ;  don't  leave  me ;  I  want  you,"  Shock 
had  replied. 

"  All  right,  boss ;  that  suits  me,"  was  Ike's  answer, 
glad  that  his  offer  had  not  been  accepted. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Mr.  Mclntyre,  waving  his  hand. 
M  Do  not  spare  them,  Ike,"  he  continued.  "  They 
can  make  Spruce  Creek  in  two  hours  and  a  half 
easily." 

"  I'll  take  care  o'  them,"  said  Ike,  swinging  the 
fiery,  half-broken  bronchos  onto  the  trail.  "  They'd 
ought  to  do  a  little  better  than  that,  I  judge."  And 
they  did;  for,  when  the  buckboard  drew  up  at  the 
Spruce  Creek  Stopping  Place  Ike  remarked  to  Bill 
Lee,  who  stood  in  his  usual  position  leaning  against 
the  door :  "  Two  hours  from  Big  River,  and  not  much 
the  worse,  I  guess." 

Bill's  welcome  of  Shock  was  almost  effusive  in 
its  heartiness,  but  Ike  cut  him  short. 

"  I  say,  Bill,"  he  called  out,  walking  to  the  stable ; 
"  got  any  oats  in  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  few.  I  keep  some  for  thoroughbreds,  you 
know."  And  he  walked  after  Ike  into  the  stable. 

Ike  began  talking  rapidly  and  in  a  low  tone.  As 
Bill  listened  he  became  unusually  excited.  "  Eh ! 
What!  No.  Say,  that's  bad,  too  blank  bad!  His 
mother,  eh?  My  team?  Certainly.  There  they  are, 
fit  for  a  good  dozen  an  hour.  Put  'em  right  in." 


"STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD»  005 

In  ten  minutes  Bill's  team,  the  pride  of  his  heart, 
were  hitched  to  the  blackboard. 

"  All  right,  Bill,"  said  Ike,  taking  the  reins, 

"  All  right,  Ike,"  replied  Bill.  "  Their  skin  don5! 
say  much,  but  they  can  talk  with  their  feet  a  few. 
Let  'em  go.  They  won't  run  away," 

The  performance  of  Bill's  bony,  shaggy  team  more 
than  justified  their  owner's  promise.  They  did  "  talk 
with  their  feet,"  and  to  such  good  purpose  that  in 
less  than  two  hours  Shock  stood  at  the  door  of  his  Con- 
vener's house,  his  mind  bewildered,  his  senses  numbed 
from  the  terrible  strain  through  which  he  had  passed. 

"  Come  in,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  the  Convener,  who 
had  evidently  been  expecting  him,  "  come  right  in." 

But  Shock  stood  at  the  door.  "  Is  there  any 
word?  "  he  enquired,  with  a  voice  void  of  all  emotion* 

"  Nothing  further." 

"  When  does  the  train  go  ?  " 

"  The  train  ?     Oh,  at  two  in  the  morning." 

"  How  long  does  it  take?" 

"  Five  days." 

"  Five  days !  "  echoed  Shock,  in  a  voice  of  despair. 

"  You  might  wire  a  message  in  the  meantime,"  said 
the  Convener  kindly.  "  We  will  go  down  to  the  tele- 
graph office  after  you  have  had  a  rest  and  a  cup  of 
tea." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Shock,  turning  eagerly  from  the 
door.  "  I  am  all  right;  cannot  we  go  now?  " 

At  the  telegraph  office  a  number  of  men  stood 
laughing  and  talking.  Shock  drew  a  blank  sheet 
toward  him  and  set  himself  to  compose  his  wire.  Again 


$06  THE    PROSPECTOR 

and  again  he  made  the  attempt,  but  at  length  he  put 
down  the  pen  and  looked  around  piteously  at  his 
friend.  "  I  cannot  say  it ! "  he  exclaimed  in  a  hurried 
whisper. 

"  Come  outside  a  minute,"  said  the  Convener,  tak- 
ing his  arm.  "  Now  tell  me  what  you  want  to  say 
and  perhaps  I  can  help  you." 

"Oh!"  cried  Shock,  wreathing  his  great  fingers 
in  his  agony.  "  I  want  to  say — good-bye — No,  no, 
not  that!  I  want  to  tell  her — give  her  my  love  and 
say  I  want  to  see  her.  She  will  be  wanting  me."  His 
breath  began  to  come  in  great  heaving  sobs. 

"  Let  me  try,"  said  his  friend.  "  You  stay  out 
here." 

After  some  moments  the  Convener  returned  and 
handed  Shock  a  paper  on  which  he  had  written :  "  God 
keep  you,  mother  dear.  My  heart's  love  to  you.  Shall 
I  come?" 

"  Will  that  do?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  yes ;  thank  you.     That  is  good." 

"  Now,"  said  the  Convener,  when'  they  had  reached 
the  house,  "  you  must  rest." 

"  I  am  not  tired,"  said  Shock,  as  if  in  surprise. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  are  half  dead." 

"  No,  I  am  quite  right,  and  besides,  there's  Ike.  1 
ought  to  look  after  Ike." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  Ike,"  said  the  Convener. 
"He's  able  to  look  after  himself;  besides  I'll  look 
him  up  when  I  get  you  to  sleep.  Come  now,"  and  he 
led  him  into  the  tiny  bedroom.  "  You  get  into  bed ; 
I'll  bring  you  a  cup  of  tea  and  you  can  sleep,  Na 


"STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD"  307 

one  will  disturb  you,  and  I'll  wake  you  at  the  right 
time,  never  fear." 

"  I  don't  think  I  am  sleepy,'5  said  Shock ;  but  when 
in  a  few  minutes  his  friend  came  back  with  his  cup  of 
tea  he  found  Shock  in  a  sleep  so  profound  that  he 
had  not  the  heart  to  wake  him.  "  Poor  chap,  poor 
chap ! "  said  the  Convener,  looking  down  upon  the 
strong,  rugged  face,  now  so  haggard.  "  This  is  a 
hard  country ! " 

For  hours  Shock  lay  dead  in  sleep.  Before  night- 
fall the  Convener  went  to  look  up  Ike,  and  on  his  re- 
turn found  his  guest  still  asleep.  "  Let  him  sleep,  it 
will  do  him  good,"  he  said  to  his  kind-hearted  wife, 
who  would  have  wakened  Shock  to  have  supper. 
"  We'll  let  him  sleep  till  an  answer  comes  to  his  wire." 

Late  at  night  he  went  down  to  the  telegraph 
office. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  clerk  in  answer  to  his  enquiry  $ 
"  there's  a  wire  for  Mr.  Macgregor  just  come  in.  Bad 
news,  too,  I  guess," 

The  Convener  took  the  message  and  read: 

"Your  mother  passed  away  in  perfect  peace  this 
evening.  Your  message  brought  her  great  joy.  She 
wished  me  to  send  this  reply :  *  The  Lord  is  my 
Shepherd ;  I  shall  not  want.  Stay  at  your  post,  lad, 
till  He  calls.'  "  HELEN." 

"  '  Stay  at  your  post  till  He  calls,' "  read  the  Con- 
vener again.  "A  great  soul  that.  That  word  wiB 
do  him  good," 


308  THE     PROSPECTOR 

He  was  right.  He  found  Shock  waiting  for  him, 
calm,  expectant,  and  ready  to  bear  whatever  life 
might  bring,  nor  did  his  face  change  as  he  read  the 
wire  over  and  over  again.  He  only  said :  "  God  is 
very  good  to  us.  She  went  away  in  peace,  and  she 
got  my  wire  and  I  hers," 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Convener,  "  God  is  always  good. 
We  sometimes  cannot  see  it,  but,"  he  added,  "  it  was 
a  great  matter  that  your  sister  could  have  been  there 
with  her."  , 

"My  sister?"  said  Shock.  "Oh!"  a  sudden 
flush  reddening  his  pale  cheek.  "  She's  not  my  sister 
— she's  my — she's  our  friend,  yes,  a  dear  friend.  It 
would  be  a  great  joy  to  my  mother  to  have  her." 

There  was  no  sign  of  grief  in  his  face,  but  a  great 
peace  seemed  to  have  settled  upon  him.  Long  mto 
the  night  he  talked  over  the  affairs  of  his  mission  field, 
giving  in  response  to  the  keen  questions  of  his  Con- 
vener a  full  account  of  the  work  he  had  been  carrying 
on,  opening  up  the  plans  he  had  made  for  future 
work.  In  particular  was  he  anxious  to  enlist  the  Con- 
vener's sympathy  in  his  scheme  for  a  reading-room 
and  hospital  at  the  Pass.  The  Convener  shook  his 
head  at  the  plan.  "  I  agree  with  you  entirely,"  he 
said,  "  but  the  Committee,  I  fear,  will  not  give  you  a 
grant  for  a  hospital.  "  If  it  were  a  church  now " 

"  Well,"  argued  Shock,  "  it  will  serve  for  a  church." 

"  You  may  count  on  me  to  do  my  best  for  you," 
replied  the  Convener,  "  but  I  am  not  sanguine.  The 
Committee  are  extremely  cautious  and  conservative." 
But  when  the  Convener  came  to  ask  about  the  difficul- 


"STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD"  309 

ties  and  trials  of  his  life  his  missionary  became  silent. 
There  were  no  trials  and  difficulties  to  speak  of,  no 
more  at  least  than  the  rest  of  the  people  had  to  bear. 
They  were  all  good  to  him. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  the  Convener,  "  but  there 
are  difficulties,  none  the  less.  It  is  a  hard  country, 
and  sometimes  it  lays  burdens  upon  us  almost  greater 
than  we  can  bear.  There  are  the  poor  Mclntyres, 
now,"  he  continued.  "  How  did  you  find  them?  " 

"Very  well,"  replied  Shock.  "But,  indeed,  I 
didn't  notice  much." 

And  then  the  Convener  told  him  of  the  story  of  their 
great  grief. 

"  It  is  a  common  enough  story  in  this  country. 
The  little  baby  was  five  months  old,  singularly  bright 
and  attractive.  Mclntyre  himself  was  quite  foolish 
about  it;  and,  indeed,  the  whole  congregation  were 
quite  worked  up  over  it.  Took  suddenly  ill,  some 
mysterious  trouble;  no  doctor  within  forty  miles; 
before  he  arrived  the  baby  was  gone.  They  were 
dreadfully  cut  up  about  it." 

•'I — I  never  noticed,"  said  Shock,  with  a  sense  of 
shame.  *'  I  wasn't  thinking." 

There  was  no  demonstration  of  sympathy  on  the 
part  of  his  people  when  Shock  returned  to  his  work. 
One  by  one  they  came  up  after  the  evening  service  to 
shake  hands  with  him  and  then  to  leave  him  alone. 
But  that  night,  when  all  had  gone  except  Ike,  who  was 
hovering  about  downstairs  within  call  of  Shock, — who 
was  sitting  upstairs  alone  in  the  room  which,  in  the 


810.  THE    PROSPECTOR 

fulness  of  his  joy,  he  had  set  apart  for  his  mother, — a 
voice  was  heard  asking  cautiously: 

"Is  he  in?" 

i6  Yes,  but  I  guess  he's  pretty  tired,"  replied  Ike 
doubtfully. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  him  a  minute,"  replied  the  voice., 
with  a  sudden  huskiness, 

"Oh!  It's  you,  is  it?"  said  Ike.  "Well,  come 
in.  Yes,  come  right  upstairs."  And  Carroll  came 
heavily  up  the  stairs  with  Patsy  in  his  arms. 

"  Why,  Carroll,  this  is  awfully  good  of  you ! "  ex- 
claimed Shock,  going  to  meet  him. 

"It's  the  little  lad,"  said  Carroll.  "It's  Patsy; 
he's  breakin'  the  heart  av  him,  an'  he  wants  to  see  you, 

and,  your  riverince,  it's  meself — I  want  to "    The 

voice  broke  down  completely. 

"  Come  in,  come  in ! "  cried  Shock,  his  tears  flowing 
fast.  "  Come,  Patsy,  do  you  want  to  see  me?  Come 
on,  old  chap,  I  want  you,  too."  He  took  the  little 
cripple  hi  his  arms  and  held  him  tight  while  his  tears 
fell  upon  Patsy's  face  and  hands. 

"  Is  it  for  your  mother?  "  whispered  Patsy,  in  an 
awestruck  tone. 

"Yes,  yes,  Patsy  dear,"  said  Shock,  who  was  fast 
losing  control  of  himself,  the  long  pent-up  -grief 
breaking  through  all  barriers  of  self-control.  "  She's 
gone  from  me,  Patsy  lad." 

"  But,"  said  the  little  boy,  lifting  up  his  beautiful 
face  in  wonder.  "  Sure,  isn't  she  wid  Jesus  Himself 
and  the  blessed  angels  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Patsy,  my  boy !  she  is,  and  it's  not  right 

I 


"STAY  AT  YOUR  POST,  LAD"  31! 

to  grieve  too  much,  but  I  cannot  help  it,'9  said  Shock9 
regaining  control  of  himself.  "  But  I  am  glad  you 
came  in  to  tell  me,  and  we'll  all  try  to  be  good  men  so 
that  some  day  we'll  all  go  there,  too." 

For  a  long  time  they  sat  looking  out  on  the  moon- 
lit lake  and  the  distant  hills,  Shock  telling  the  little 
lad  he  held  in  his  arms  of  the  beautiful  country  to 
which  his  mother  had  gone. 

That  night  was  the  beginning  of  better  things  for 
the  big  Irishman.  The  revenge  he  had  cherished  for 
so  many  months  passed  out  of  his  heart,  and  among 
his  closest  friends  and  his  warmest  companions  Shock 
could  count  from  that  time  forth  Tim  Carroll. 


XVII 
BETTY'S     LAST     WORDS 

THERE  is  a  certain  stimulus  in  grief  which 
lends  unreal  strength  to  endure,  but  Nature 
will  be  avenged  in  a  physical  and  emotional 
reaction,  all  the  more  terrible  that  it  is  unex- 
pected.    Then  the  full  weight  of  the  sorrow  presses 
upon  the  heart  already  exhausted,  and  the  sense  of  loss 
becomes  the  more  painful  because  it  can  be  fairly  esti- 
mated, and  the  empty  place  can  be  more  truly  meas- 
ured because  it  is  seen  in  its  relation  to  the  ordinary 
life. 

So  it  was  with  Shock.  The  first  sharp  stab  of  grief 
was  over,  and  now  he  carried  with  him  the  long  ache 
of  a  wound  that  would  not  heal  for  many  a  day.  His 
mother  had  filled  a  large  part  of  his  life.  As  far 
back  into  childhood  as  his  memory  could  go,  there  she 
stood  between  him  and  the  great  world,  his  sure  de- 
fence against  all  evil,  his  refuge  in  all  sorrow ;  and  as 
he  grew  into  manhood  she  made  for  herself  a  larger 
and  larger  place  in  his  thought  and  in  his  life.  He 
well  knew  how  she  had  toiled  and  denied  herself  com- 
forts and  endured  hardships  that  he  might  gain  that 
height  of  every  Scottish  mother's  ambition  for  her  son, 
a  college  education,  and  he  gave  her  full  reward  in  the 
love  of  his  heart  and  the  thoughtful  devotion  of  his 
life.  All  his  interests  and  occupations,  his  studies,  his 

312 


BETTY'S     LAST     WORDS        318 

mission  work  in  the  Ward,  his  triumphs  on  the  football 
field,  all  he  shared  with  her,  and  until  the  last  year  no 
one  had  ever  challenged  her  place  of  supremacy  in  his 
heart.  His  future  was  built  about  his  mother.  She 
was  to  share  his  work,  her  home  was  to  be  in  his  manse, 
she  was  to  be  the  centre  about  which  his  life  would 
swing ;  and  since  coming  to  the  West  he  had  built  up  in 
imagination  a  new  life  structure,  in  which  his  mother 
had  her  own  ancient  place.  In  this  new  and  fasci- 
nating work  of  exploring,  organising,  and  upbuilding 
he  felt  sure,  too,  of  his  mother's  eager  sympathy  and 
her  wise  understanding. 

It  had  been  the  happiest  of  all  his  fancies  that  his 
mother  should  preside  over  the  new  home,  the  opening 
of  which  had  been  attended  with  such  pride  and  joy. 
She  would  be  there  to  live  with  him  every  day,  watch- 
ing him  go  out  and  waiting  for  him  to  come  in. 

Now  all  that  was  gone.  As  his  mind  ran  along  its 
accustomed  grooves  every  turn  of  thought  smote  him 
with  a  pang  sharp  and  sudden.  She  was  no  longer  a 
part  of  the  plan.  All  had  to  be  taken  down,  the  parts 
readjusted,  the  structure  rebuilt.  He  began  to  un- 
derstand the  Convener's  words,  "  This  is  a  hard 
country."  It  demanded  a  man's  life  in  all  the  full, 
deep  meaning  of  the  word ;  his  work,  of  course  of  body 
and  brain,  but  his  heart  as  well,  and  his  heart's 
treasures. 

In  the  midst  of  his  depression  and  bewilderment  Ike 
brought  him  a  letter  which  had  lain  two  weeks  at  the 
Fort,  and  whose  date  was  now  some  four  weeks  old. 
It  was  from  Brown  and  ran  thus : 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

MY  DEAR  Ou>  CHAP  : 

I  do  not  know  how  to  begin  this  letter.  The  ter- 
ribly sudden  and  awful  calamity  that  has  overtaken  us 
has  paralysed  my  mind,  and  I  can  hardly  think 
straight.  One  thing  that  stands  out  before  me,  wip- 
ing out  almost  every  other  thought,  is  that  our  dear 
Betty  is  no  more.  You  cannot  imagine  it,  I  know,  for 
though  I  saw  her  in  her  coffin,  so  sweet  and  lovely,  but 
oh!  so  still,  I  cannot  get  myself  to  believe  it.  The 
circumstances  concerning  her  death,  too,  were  awfully 
sad,  so  sad  that  it  simply  goes  beyond  any  words  I 
have  to  describe  them.  I  will  try  to  be  coherent ;  but, 
though  I  shall  give  you  an  account  of  what  happened, 
I  cannot  begin  to  convey  the  impression  upon  my 
mind.  Well,  let  me  try. 

You  know  Mrs.  Fairbanks  has  been  opposed  all 
along  to  The  Don's  attentions  to  Betty,  and  has  tried 
her  best  to  block  him.  After  you  left,  the  opposition 
grew  more  determined.  Why,  for  the  life  of  me,  I 
cannot  say.  She  had  apparently  made  up  her  mind 
that  The  Don  must  quit.  She  worked  every  kind  of 
scheme,  but  it  was  no  good.  That  plucky  little  girl, 
in  her  own  bright,  jolly  way,  without  coming  to  an 
open  break,  would  not  give  back  an  inch,  and  The  Don 
kept  coming  to  the  house  just  because  Betty  insisted. 
He  would  have  quit  long  before,  poor  chap.  You 
know  how  proud  he  is. 

Well,  Mrs.  Fairbanks  set  to  work  to  gain  her  pur- 
pose. She  somehow  got  wind  of  the  kind  of  life  The 
Don  lived  in  this  city  years  ago.  She  set  enquiries  on 
foot  and  got  hold  of  the  facts  pretty  well.  You  know 


BETTY'S     LAST     WORDS        315 

all  about  it,  so  I  need  not  tell  you.  Poor  chap,  he 
had  his  black  spots,  sure  enough.  She  furthermore 
got  Lloyd  somehow  to  corroborate  her  facts.  Just 
how  much  he  looked  up  for  her  I  don't  know,  but  I  tell 
you  I  have  quit  Lloyd.  He  is  a  blanked  cad.  I 
know  I  should  not  write  this,  and  you  will  hate  to  read 
it,  but  it  is  the  truth.  His  conduct  during  the  whole 
business  has  been  damnable!  damnable!  damnable!  I 
gnash  my  teeth  as  I  write. 

When  she  had  everything  ready  she  sprung  her 
mine.  It  was  in  her  own  house  one  evening,  when 
Lloyd,  The  Don,  and  I  were  there,  and  the  Fairbanks' 
new  minister,  Hooper,  a  young  Trinity  man,  who  has 
been  a  close  friend  of  The  Don's,  I  don't  know  how 
long,  but  some  years  at  least.  A  fine  fellow.  God 
bless  him,  say  I,  again  and  again. 

The  Don  and  Betty  had  been  going  it  pretty  strong 
that  evening,  rather  unnecessarily  so,  I  think;  and 
Mrs.  Fairbanks  got  more  and  more  worked  up,  until 
she  seemed  to  lose  her  head.  As  The  Don  was  saying 
good  night  she  spoke  up  and  said  in  that  haughty 
way  of  hers,  ' c  Mr.  Balfour,  the  time  has  come  when 
we  must  say  good-bye,  and  I  must  ask  you  to  discon- 
tinue your  visits  to  this  house,  and  your  intimacy  with 
my  daughter." 

Well,  we  all  sat  up,  I  can  tell  you.  The  Don  went 
white,  and  red,  and  white  again.  Betty  walked  over 
and  stood  by  his  side,  her  eyes  all  blazing. 
"  Mamma,"  she  cried,  "  what  are  you  saying  against 
the  man  I  love !  Do  you  mean  to " 

"  Betty,"  said  her  mother  in  her  haughtiest  and 


316  THE    PROSPECTOR 

coldest  and  calmest  voice,  "  before  you  go  any  further, 
listen  to  me.  I  do  not  choose  that  my  daughter,  pure 
and  unsullied,  should  give  herself  to  a  roue  and  a 
libertine." 

The  Don  took  a  step  toward  her  and  said :  "  Mrs. 
Fairbanks,  someone  has  misled  you.  What  you  say 
is  false,  absolutely  and  utterly  false."  Betty  glanced 
proudly  up  into  hi*  face. 

"  False !  "  cried  Mrs.  Fairbanks.  "  Then,  Mr.  Bal- 
four,  you  force  me  to  ask,  did  you  not  live  for  some 
months  with  a  woman  on  Jarvis  Street?  Were  you 
not  a  constant  visitor  at  houses  of  ill  repute  for  months 
in  this  city?" 

Poor  Don  \  I  can  see  him  yet.  His  face  grew  livid, 
his  eyes  staring,  as  he  stood  there  without  a  word. 

"  Don,"  cried  Betty,  "  tell  her  it  is  false !  "  and  she 
lifted  her  little  head  proudly.  "  Tell  her  it  is  false, 
and  I  don't  care  who  says  it  is  true."  Still  The  Don 
stood  speechless. 

"  Alas !  my  poor  child,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  "  he 
could  not  say  so.  I  have  the  proof  in  my  hand."  And 
she  pulled  a  letter  out  of  her  pocket.  "  It  is  true,  and 
much  more — too  true.  Mr.  Lloyd  here  knows  this  to 
be  true.  Is  it  not  so,  Mr.  Lloyd?  If  this  is  not  true, 
speak."  The  poor  old  Don  turned  his  eyes  implor- 
ingly toward  Lloyd,  like  a  man  hanging  on  his  last 
hope,  but  Lloyd,  the  beast!  mumbled  and  stuttered 
something  or  other.  Betty  ran  to  him,  caught  him 
by  the  arm  and  shook  him.  "  Speak  out ! "  she  said. 
"  Say  it  is  all  a  lie !  "  The  Lloyd  said  in  a  thick  kind 
of  voice,  "  I  cannot  say  so." 


BETTY'S     LAST     WORDS        311 

Betty  turned  back  to  The  Don,  and  may  God  keep 
me  from  ever  seeing  a  face  like  hers  again.  "  Say  it 
isn't  true !  "  she  said,  putting  her  hand  on  his  arm ;  and 
as  he  stood  still,  white  and  speechless,  she  gave  a  kind 
of  cry  of  fear,  and  horror,  and  I  don't  know  what  else. 
"  Oh,  Don,  can  this  be  true — and — you  kissed  me ! " 

Then  The  Don  pulled  himself  together,  turned  to 
Mrs.  Fairbanks,  and  began  to  speak,  the  words  pour- 
ing out  in  a  perfect  torrent.  "  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  you 
must  listen  to  me.  What  you  say  was  true  of  me 
eight  years  ago.  I  came  here  a  mere  boy.  I  fell  in 
with  a  bad  lot — I  had  plenty  of  money,  and  I  confess 
I  went  bad.  That  was  eight  years  ago.  Then  I  met 
your  daughters,  and  came  into  your  home.  From 
that  time  I  have  never  done  a  dishonourable  thing, 
my  life  has  been  clean.  Ever  since  I  touched  your 
daughter's  hand  my  hands  have  never  touched  any- 
thing unclean.  The  first  day  I  saw  her,  eight  years 
ago,  I  loved  her,  and  since  then  I  have  been  true  in 
heart  and  in  life  to  her.  For  my  shameful  past  God 
knows  I  have  repented  bitterly,  bitterly,  and  have 
sought  forgiveness ;  and  no  man  lives  in  this  town,  or 
any  other,  who  can  point  to  anything  of  which  I  am 
ashamed  to  speak  here." 

Poor  Betty !  She  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  a 
frightened  kind  of  way,  and  when  The  Don  had  fin- 
ished his  confession  she  gave  a  cry  the  like  of  which  I 
never  heard,  "  Oh,  mother,  take  me  away !  "  I  have 
heard  of  hearts  being  broken.  I  think  hers  was 
broken  then. 

I  tell  you  we  were  all  in  a  whirl.     The  Don  fell  on 


81S  THE     PROSPECTOR 

his  knees  beside  her,  taking  hold  of  her  skirts.  "  Oh, 
Betty,  won't  you  forgive  me?  God  have  mercy  on 
me!  Won't  you  forgive  me?  I  have  done  many 
things  of  which  I  am  ashamed,  but  I  have  never  been 
untrue  to  you  in  thought  or  in  deed.  Never,  never,  so 
help  me  God ! "  He  clutched  the  hem  of  her  dress, 
kissing  it  over  and  over  again.  It  was  a  ghastly 
sight,  I  can  tell  you.  Betty  shrank  from  him,  draw- 
ing her  skirts  away.  "  Come  away,  my  daughter," 
said  Mrs.  Fairbanks.  "  There  is  nothing  more  to  be 
said." 

As  she  turned  away  up  spake  little  Hooper.  God 
bless  him,  the  little  five-footer,  every  inch  clear  grit. 
"  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  one  minute.  Pardon  me  if  I  say  a 
word.  I  am  this  young  man's  friend,  and  I  am  your 
minister.  I  have  known  this  man  for  six  years.  I 
have  known  him  intimately.  I  believe  he  carries  a 
clean,  pure  heart,  and  he  has  lived  a  hard-working, 
honourable  life.  If  he  has  sinned,  he  has  repented, 
and  God  has  forgiven  him.  Should  not  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Fairbanks  turned  impatiently  on  him.  "  Mr. 
Hooper,  forgiveness  is  one  thing,  and  friendship 
another." 

"  No,  thank  God !  "  cried  the  little  chap.  "  No,  for- 
giveness is  not  one  thing  and  friendship  another. 
Forgiveness  means  friendship,  and  welcome,  and  love, 
with  God  and  with  man."  I  could  have  hugged  the 
little  man  where  he  stood. 

Then  Mrs.  Fairbanks  seemed  to  lose  her  head,  and 
she  blazed  out  in  a  perfect  fury.  "  Do  you  mean  de- 
liberately to  say  that  this  man,"  pointing  to  The  Don, 

I 


BETTY'S     LAST     WORDS        819 

who  was  still  on  his  knees,  with  his  face  in  his  hands, 
"  that  this  man  should  be  received  into  my  house  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Fairbanks,"  said  Hooper,  "  is  there  not  a 
place  for  the  repentant  and  absolved,  even  with  the 
saints  of  God?  " 

Mrs.  Fairbanks  lost  herself  completely.  "  Mr. 
Hooper,"  she  cried,  "  this  is  outrageous.  I  tell  you, 
forgiven  or  not,  repentant  or  not,  never  will  he,  or 
such  as  he,  enter  rny  doors  or  touch  my  daughter's 
hand.  Never  while  I  live." 

Then  Hooper  drew  himself  up.  He  seemed  to  me 
six  feet  tall.  He  lifted  his  hand,  and  spoke  with  the 
kind  of  solemnity  that  you  expect  to  come  from  the 
altar.  "  Then  listen  to  me,  Mrs.  Fairbanks.  You 
say  you  would  not  receive  him  or  such  as  him  into  your 
house.  You  invite  me  often  to  your  home,  and  here 
I  constantly  meet  men  who  are  known  in  society  as 
rakes  and  roues.  You  know  it,  and  all  society  women 
know  it,  too.  If  you  cared  to  take  half  the  trouble 
you  have  taken  in  this  case,  you  could  find  out  all  the 
facts.  You  are  a  woman  of  society,  and  you  know 
well  what  I  say  is  true.  I  have  seen  you  in  this  room 
place  your  daughter  in  the  arms  of  a  man  you  knew 
to  be  a  drunkard,  and  must  have  suspected  was  a  lib- 
ertine. These  men  have  the  entree  to  every  good 
family  in  the  city,  and  though  their  character  is 
known,  they  are  received  everywhere.  They  have 
wealth  and  family  connection.  Do  not  attempt  to 
deny  it,  Mrs.  Fairbanks.  I  know  society,  and  you 
know  it  well.  If  you  strike  off  the  names  of  those 
men  whose  lives,  not  have  been  in  the  past,  but  are  to- 


820  THE     PROSPECTOR 

day  unclean  and  unworthy,  you  will  have  to  make  a 
very  large  blank  in  your  dancing  list."  Then  the 
little  fellow's  voice  broke  right  down.  "  Forgive  me 
if  I  have  spoken  harshly.  I  beseech  you,  hear  me. 
You  are  doing  a  great  wrong  to  my  friend,  a  cruel 
wrong.  I  pledge  you  my  name  and  honour  he  is  a 
good  man,  and  he  is  worthy  of  your  daughter.  God 
has  covered  his  sin:  why  have  you  dared  to  uncover 
it  ?  "  And  then,  in  the  tone  that  he  uses  in  reading 
his  prayers,  he  went  on,  "  In  the  name  of  the  Saviour 
of  the  sinful  and  lost,  I  ask  you,  I  entreat  you,  re- 
ceive him." 

You  would  think  that  would  have  melted  the  heart 
of  a  she-devil,  let  alone  a  woman,  but  that  woman  stood 
there,  cold,  white,  and  unmoved.  "  Is  that  all,  Mr. 
Hooper?"  she  said.  "Then  my  answer  is — never! 
And  as  for  you,  his  eloquent  advocate,  I  never  wish  to 
see  you  again.  Come,  Betty." 

As  they  began  to  move  off  The  Don,  who  was  still 
on  his  knees,  looked  up  and  reached  out  his  hands 
toward  the  poor  girl  with  a  cry  that  stabbed  my  heart 
through  and  through.  "  I  want  your  forgiveness, 
Betty,  only  your  forgiveness."  She  paused,  took  a 
step  towards  him,  then  putting  her  hands  over  her 
face  she  stood  still,  shuddering.  Her  mother  caught 
her  and  drew  her  away. 

The  Don  rose  slowly.  He  seemed  stupefied.  He 
turned  toward  Hooper,  and  said  in  a  hoarse  kind  of 
whisper :  "  She's  gone !  Oh,  God,  I  have  lost  her !  " 
He  felt  his  way  out  to  the  hall  like  a  blind  man.  Helen 
put  out  her  hand  to  stop  him,  but  he  went  on,  never 


BETTY'S     LAST     WORDS        321 

noticing.  She  followed  him  to  the  hall,  weeping  bit- 
terly, and  crying,  "  Come  back,  Don,  come  back !  " 

Without  waiting  to  get  coat  or  hat,  he  rushed  out. 
"  Go  and  get  him,"  Helen  cried  to  us,  and  we  followed 
him  as  fast  as  we  could.  When  I  got  out  he  had 
reached  the  gate,  and  was  fumbling  at  the  catch. 
"  Hold  on,  Don,  where  are  you  going  ?  "  I  cried. 
"  To  hell !  to  hell !  to  hell !  "  My  dear  chap,  that  cry 
of  his  made  me  believe  in  hell ;  for,  if  lost  spirits  cry 
when  the  devils  get  hold  of  them,  they  will  cry  like 
that.  It  was  the  most  unearthly,  horrible  sound  I 
have  ever  heard,  and  may  God  save  me  from  hearing 
the  like  again. 

Next  day  I  tried  to  see  Betty,  but  it  was  no  use,  she 
would  see  no  one,  And  soon  after  I  heard  she  was  ill, 
typhoid  fever.  It  had  been  working  on  her  for  some 
time.  There  was  almost  no  hope  from  the  very  first. 
She  became  delirious  at  once,  and  in  her  raving  kept 
calling  on  The  Don  for  forgiveness.  Your  mother  was 
a  great  help  to  them,  relieving  the  nurse.  They  all 
seemed  to  depend  upon  her.  Of  course,  I  was  in  and 
out  every  day,  and  brought  reports  to  The  Don,  who 
haunted  our  house  day  and  night.  I  never  saw  a  fel- 
low suffer  like  that.  He  slept  hardly  any,  ate  nothing 
at  all,  but  wandered  about  the  town,  spending  most  of 
his  time  at  Hooper's  when  he  was  not  with  us. 

After  the  delirium  passed  Betty  asked  for  mee 
When  I  saw  her  looking  so  white  and  thin — you  would 
think  you  could  see  through  her  hands — I  tell  you  it 
broke  me  all  up.  She  beckoned  me  to  her,  and  when 
I  bent  over  her  she  whispered :  "  Find  The  Don  and 


THE     PROSPECTOR 

bring  him."  At  first  her  mother  refused,  saying  he 
should  never  come  with  her  consent.  It  was  mighty 
hard,  I  tell  you.  But  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day 
Helen  "came  flying  over  to  tell  us  that  the  doctor  had 
said  there  was  only  a  very  slight  chance  for  Betty, 
and  that  if  her  mother  persisted  in  her  refusal  he 
would  not  be  responsible  for  the  consequences,  that  her 
mother  had  yielded,  and  I  was  to  bring  The  Don.  I 
tell  you,  I  made  time  down  to  his  rooms,  and  brought 
him  to  the  house. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  room  but  the  nurse  and  the 
doctor  when  he  entered.  She  was  expecting  us,  and 
as  we  entered  she  opened  her  eyes  and  asked,  "  Is  he 
here  ?  "  The  nurse  beckoned  him  to  approach.,  and 
The  Don  came  and  knelt  at  her  bed.  He  was  very 
steady  and  quiet.  She  put  out  her  hand  and  drew  him 
toward  her.  She  was  the  calmest  of  us  all.  "  I  want 
you  to  forgive  me,  Don,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  was 
wonderfully  clear.  Poor  chap,  he  went  all  to  pieces 
for  a  minute  or  two  and,  holding  her  fingers,  kissed 
them  over  and  over  again.  "  I  want  you  to  forgive 
me,  Don,"  she  said  again.  "  I  thought  I  was  better 
than  God."  The  poor  fellow  could  only  keep  kissing 
her  fingers.  "  My  lips,  Don,  my  lips,"  and  The  Don 
kissed  her  on  the  lips  twice,  murmuring  in  a  broken 
voice,  "  My  darling,  my  love,  my  love." 

Then  she  looked  up  and  smiled  that  old  smile  of 
hers — you  remember,  so  bright  and  so  merry?  By 
Jove,  it  broke  me  all  up.  And  she  said :  "  Now  we 
are  all  right,  aren't  we?"  The  doctor  came  and 
touched  The  Don.  "  No,  doctor,"  she  said,  "  I  am 


BETTY'S     LAST     WORDS 

quite  quiet.  See,  I  am  going  to  sleep.  I  want  you 
to  stay  there,  Don.  Good-night." 

Mrs.  Fairbanks  and  Helen  came  in.  Helen  gave 
The  Don  her  hand,  but  Mrs.  Fairbanks  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  him.  Betty  opened  her  eyes,  saw  her  mother 
and  smiled.  "  Dear  mother,"  she  said,  "  see,  there's 
Don."  Mrs.  Fairbanks  hesitated  slightly,  then 
reached  out  her  hand  across  the  bed.  "  Thank  you, 
dear  mother,"  Betty  said.  "  You  must  be  good  to 
him."  Then  after  a  little  while  she  said  dreamily, 
like  a  tired  child :  "  God  forgives  us  all,  and  we  must 
forgive."  She  let  her  eyes  rest  on  The  Don's  face. 
"  Good-night,  Don,  dear,"  she  said,  "  I  am  going  to 
sleep." 

That  was  her  last  word,  Shock.  Just  think  of  it — * 
Betty's  last  word.  I  cannot  realise  it  at  all. 

I  wish  my  story  ended  there,  but  it  does  not.  For  a 
time  we  sat  there,  the  doctor  hoping  that  a  turn  for 
the  better  had  come,  but  in  about  an  hour  the  nurse 
noticed  a  change,  and  called  him.  He  came  quickly, 
felt  her  pulse,  injected  something  or  other  into  her 
arm.  She  opened  her  eyes.  You  remember  how  she 
would  open  those  lovely  brown  eyes  of  hers  when  any- 
thing surprised  her.  Well,  she  opened  them  just  that 
way,  smiled  brightly  on  one  and  then  another,  let  her 
eyes  rest  on  The  Don,  gave  a  little  sigh  and  closed 
them,  and  they  never  opened  again.  "  She  is  gone," 
the  doctor  said,  and  we  aH  crowded  near.  "  Yes,  she  is 
gone,"  he  said  again. 

Then  The  Don  stood  up,  a«d  putting  out  his  hand 
to  Mrs.  Fairbaitks,  said:  "Mrs.  Fairbanks,  I  want 


THE     PROSPECTOR 

to  thank  you  for  allowing  me  to  come."  But  she  drew 
herself  away  from  him,  refusing  to  touch  his  hand, 
and  motioning  him  off. 

Poor  chap!  He  turned  back  to  the  bed,  kneeled 
down,  touched  the  soft  brown  hair  with  his  hands, 
kissed  the  fingers  again,  and  then  without  a  word  went 
out.  If  anyone  can  tell  me  what  that  woman's  heart 
is  mcide  of,  I  would  like  to  know. 

The  day  of  the  funeral  The  Don  brought  me  a  little 
bunch  of  lilies  of  the  valley,  saying,  "  It  is  for  her." 
I  gave  them  to  Helen,  and  I  saw  them  afte*  tfards  in 
the  hands  that  lay  folded  across  her  breast. 

I  have  not  seen  him  since,  but  Hooper  tells  me  he 
said  he  was  going  out  to  you.  I  hope  to  Heaven  he 
will  not  go  bad.  I  don't  think  he  will.  Of  course, 
he  feels  very  bitterly  about  Lloyd  and  Mrs.  Fair- 
banks. 

Now,  that  is  all  my  story.  It  makes  a  great  dif- 
ference to  all  our  set  here,  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I 
have  told  no  living  soul,  and  that  is,  that  the  world 
will  never  be  the  same  to  me  again.  I  am  not  much 
given  to  sentiment,  as  you  know,  and  nobody  ever  sus- 
pected it.  I  do  not  think  she  did  herself.  But  I  loved 
that  little  girl  better  than  my  life,  and  I  would  have 
given  my  soul  for  her  any  day. 

I  know  you  will  feel  this  terribly.  How  often  I 
have  wished  that  you  could  have  been  with  us.  The 
best  I  could  do  was  to  send  you  this  wretched,  inco- 
herent scrawl. 

Your  friend  as  ever, 

BROWN. 


BETTY'S    LAST    WORDS       825 

P.  S. — Do  you  know  anything  about  the  British- 
[American  Gold  and  Silver  Mining  Company,  or  some- 
thing like  that?  There  is  a  chap  here,  manager  or 
director,  or  something.  Ambherg,  I  think  his  name  is. 
He  speaks  as  if  he  knew  you,  or  knew  something  about 
you.  He  is  a  great  friend  of  the  Fairbanks.  Lots 
of  money,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  I  did  not  like  the 
way  he  spoke  about  you.  I  felt  like  giving  him  a 
smack.  Do  you  know  him,  or  anything  about  the 
company  ? 

Your  mother  has  not  been  very  well  since  Betty's 
death.  I  think  she  found  the  strain  pretty  heavy. 
She  has  caught  a  little  cold,  I  am  afraid.  B. 

Brown's  letter  did  for  Shock  what  nothing  else 
could  have  done:  it  turned  his  mind  away  from  him- 
self and  his  sorrow.  Not  that  he  was  in  any  danger 
of  morbid  brooding  over  his  loss,  or  of  falling  into 
that  last  and  most  deplorable  of  all  human  weaknesses, 
self-pity,  but  grief  turns  the  heart  in  upon  itself,  and 
tends  to  mar  the  fine  bloom  of  an  unselfish  spirit. 

As  he  finished  reading  Brown's  letter  Shock's  heart 
tras  filled  with  love  and  pity  for  his  friend.  "  Poor 
fellow !  "  he  said.  "  I  wonder  where  he  is  now.  His  is  a 
hard  lot  indeed."  And  as  he  read  the  letter  over  and 
over  his  pity  for  his  friend  deepened,  for  he  realised 
that  in  his  cup  of  sorrow  there  had  mingled  the  gall  of 
remorse  and  the  bitterness  of  hate. 

In  another  week  two  other  letters  came,  each  pro- 
foundly affecting  Shock  and  his  life.  One  was  from 
Helen,  giving  a  full  account  of  his  mother's  illness 


826  THE    PROSPECTOR 

and  death,  telling  how  beautifully  the  Superintendent 
had  taken  part  in  the  funeral  service,  and  preserv- 
ing for  her  son  those  last  precious  messages  of  love 
and  gratitude,  of  faith  and  hope,  which  become  the 
immortal  treasures  of  the  bereaved  heart.  As  he  read 
Helen's  letter  Shock  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  glory 
of  that  departing.  Heaven  came  about  him,  and  the 
eternal  things,  that  by  reason  of  the  nearness  of  the 
material  world  too  often  become  shadowy,  took  on  a 
reality  that  never  quite  left  him.  Where  his  mother 
was  henceforth  real  things  must  be. 

The  letter  closed  with  a  few  precious  sentences  of 
love  and  sympathy  from  Helen,  but  in  these  Shock, 
reading  with  his  heart  in  his  eyes,  and  longing  for 
more  than  he  could  rightly  find  in  them,  thought  he 
could  detect  a  kind  of  reserve,  a  reserve  which  he  could 
not  interpret,  and  he  laid  down  the  letter  with  painful 
uncertainty.  Was  her  love  more  than  she  cared  to 
tell,  or  was  it  less  than  she  knew  he  would  desire? 

From  Helen's  letter  Shock  turned  to  Mrs.  Fair- 
banks' and  read : 

MY  DEAR  MR.  MACGREGOR: 

We  all  deeply  sympathise  with  you  in  your  great 
loss,  as  I  know  you  will  with  us  in  our  grief.  We  can 
hardly  speak  of  it  yet.  It  is  so  new  and  so  terribly 
sudden  that  we  have  not  been  able  fully  to  realise  it. 

My  great  comfort  in  this  terrible  sorrow  is  my 
daughter  Helen.  Mr.  Lloyd,  too,  has  proved  himself 
a  true  friend.  Indeed,  I  do  not  know  what  we  should 
have  done  without  him.  We  are  more  and  more  com-1 


BETTY'S    LAST    WORDS        327 

ing  to  lean  upon  him.  You  will  not  have  heard  yet 
that  we  have  been  so  greatly  attracted  by  Mr.  Lloyd's 
preaching,  and  influenced  by  our  regard  for  him  per- 
sonally, that  we  have  taken  sittings  in  the  Park 
Church. 

Helen,  I  am  glad  to  say,  is  beginning  to  take  an 
interest  in  the  church  and  its  work,  and  as  time  goes 
on  I  think  her  interest  will  grow.  I  should  be  glad 
indeed  that  it  should  be  so,  for  our  relations  with  Mr. 
Lloyd  are  very  close ;  and,  in  fact,  I  may  tell  you  what 
is  yet  a  secret,  that  he  has  intimated  to  me  his  desire 
to  make  Helen  his  wife.  Helen  is  very  favourably  dis- 
posed to  him,  and  all  our  circle  of  friends  would  re- 
joice in  this  as  an  ideal  marriage.  Mr.  Lloyd  belongs 
to  her  own  set  in  society,  is  a  gentleman  of  culture  and 
high  character,  and  in  every  way  suitable.  As  for 
myself,  in  my  loneliness  I  could  not  endure  the  thought 
of  losing  my  only  daughter,  at  all,  and  her  marriage 
would  be  a  great  blow  to  me  were  it  not  that  her  home 
is  to  be  so  close  at  hand. 

There  is  one  thing,  however,  about  which  Helen  is 
sensitive.  She  cannot  rid  herself  of  a  feeling  that  she 
is  in  a  manner  bound  to  you  on  account  of  her  foolish 
and  impetuous  words,  uttered  under  the  excitement  of 
your  departure ;  but  I  am  sure  you  would  never  think 
of  holding  her  because  of  those  words,  uttered  in  a 
moment  of  great  feeling,  and  I  also  feel  sure  that  you 
would  not  in  any  way  interfere  with  her  happiness,  or 
do  anything  that  would  hinder  the  consummation  of  a 
marriage  so  eminently  suitable  in  every  way. 

We  hear  of  you  and  of  your  work  occasionally.     It 


3£8  THE    PROSPECTOR 

must  be  a  terrible  country,  and  a  very  depressing  life, 
The  loneliness  and  isolation  must  be  well-nigh  over- 
whelming. I  am  sure  you  have  all  our  sympathy.  I 
suppose  work  of  this  kind  must  be  done,  and  it  is  a 
good  thing  that  there  are  men  of  such  rugged  strength 
and  such  courage  as  you  have,  who  seem  to  be  fitted 
for  this  kind  of  work. 

Now,  my  dear  Mr.  Macgregor,  in  your  answer  I 
think  that  a  few  words  of  assurance  to  Helen  on  the 
points  I  have  suggested  would  be  greatly  appreciated, 
and  would  do  much  to  remove  difficulties  that  now 
stand  in  the  way  of  her  happiness  and  mine. 
Yours  very  sincerely, 

E.  FAIRBANKS. 

It  was  then  that  Shock  drank  to  the  dregs  his  full 
cup  of  bitter  sorrow.  The  contrasts  suggested  by 
Mrs.  Fairbanks'  letter  stood  out  vividly  before  him. 
He  thought  of  Helen's  beautiful  home,  where  she  was 
surrounded  with  all  the  luxuries  of  a  cultured  life ;  he 
thought  of  her  circle  of  friends,  of  the  life  work  to 
which,  as  Lloyd's  wife,  she  would  be  permitted  to  take 
up ;  he  thought,  too,  of  her  mother's  claim  upon  her. 
And  then  he  looked  about  upon  his  bare  room,  with 
its  log  walls,  its  utter  absence  of  everything  that  sug- 
gested refinement ;  he  thought  of  the  terrible  isolation 
that  in  these  days  had  become  so  depressing  even  to 
himself;  he  thought  of  all  the  long  hours  of  weary 
yearning  for  the  sight  and  touch  of  all  that  he  held 
dear,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  girl  to  whom  he  had 
given  his  heart's  love  in  all  its  unsullied  purity  and  in- 


BETTY'S    LAST    WORDS       329 

all  its  virgin  freshness  he  made  his  decision.  He  took 
up  his  cross,  and  though  his  heart  bled  he  pressed  his 
lips  upon  it. 

His  letter  to  Mrs.  Fairbanks  was  brief  and  clear. 

**  I  thank  you  for  your  sympathy,"  he  wrote,  "  and 
I  grieve  with  you  in  your  great  sorrow. 

"  In  regard  to  what  you  write  concerning  Miss 
Helen,  you  have  made  yourself  perfectly  clear,  and  I 
wish  to  repeat  now  what  I  said  on  the  morning  of  my 
leaving  home:  that  Miss  Helen  is  to  consider  herself 
in  no  sense  bound  to  me.  She  is  perfectly  free,  as 
free  as  if  she  had  not  spoken.  I  fully  realise  the 
possibility  of  mistaking  one's  feelings  under  the  stress 
of  such  emotional  excitement.  The  sphere  of  work 
opening  out  before  her  is  one  in  every  way  suited  to 
her,  and  one  in  which  she  will  find  full  scope  for  her 
splendid  powers  of  heart  and  mind,  and  I  shall  be 
glad  to  know  that  her  happiness  is  assured.  At  the 
same  time,  truth  demands  that  I  should  say  that  my 
feelings  toward  her  have  not  changed,  nor  will  they 
ever  change ;  and,  while  I  cannot  ask  her  to  share  a  lif  e 
such  as  mine,  I  shall  never  cease  to  love  her." 

In  Shock's  preaching,  and  in  his  visitation  of  his 
people,  a  new  spirit  made  itself  felt.  There  was  no 
less  energy,  but  there  was  an  added  sweetness,  and  a 
deeper  sympathy.  He  had  entered  upon  the  way  of 
the  Cross,  and  the  bruising  of  his  heart  distilled  all  its 
tenderness  in  word  and  deed.  His  preaching  was 
marked  by  a  new  power,  a  new  intensity;  and  when, 


830  THE    PROSPECTOR 

after  the  evening  service,  they  gathered  about  the 
organ  to  spend  an  hour  in  singing  their  favourite 
hymns,  then  most  of  all  they  were  conscious  of 
the  change  in  him.  The  closer  they  drew  toward  him 
the  more  tender  did  they  find  his  heart  to  be. 

The  loneliness  of  the  days  that  followed  was  to 
Shock  unspeakable.  There  was  no  one  to  whom  he 
could  unburden  himself.  His  face  began  to  show  the 
marks  of  the  suffering  within.  Instead  of  the  ruddy, 
full,  round,  almost  boyish  appearance,  it  became  thin 
and  hard,  and  cut  with  deep  lines. 

The  doctor,  who  now  made  his  home  in  Loon  Lake, 
became  anxious  about  his  friend,  but  he  was  too  ex- 
perienced and  too  skilled  a  physician  to  be  deceived 
as  to  the  cause  of  Shock's  changed  appearance. 

"It  is  not  sickness  of  the  body,"  he  remarked  to 
Ike,  who  was  talking  it  over  with  him,  "  but  of  the 
mind,  and  that,  my  friend,  is  the  most  difficult  to 
treat." 

"Well,"  said  Ike,  "when  I  hear  him  speak  in 
meetin',  and  see  him  git  on  one  of  them  smiles  of  his,  I 
come  purty  nigh  makin'  a  fool  of  myself.  I  guess  I'll 
have  to  quit  goin'  to  church." 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  you  will  quit,  Ike,  my  boy," 
said  the  doctor.  "  You  have  become  thoroughly  well 
inoculated.  You  could  not,  if  you  tried." 

"  Well,  I  surmise  it  would  be  difficult,  but  I  wish 
somethin'  would  happen." 


XVIII 
THE    DON'S    RECOVERY 

IKE  had  his  wish ;  for,  when  one  day  his  business 
took  him  to  the  Fort,  the  stage  brought  a  stranger 
asking  the  way  to  Mr.  Macgregor's  house,  and 
immediately  Ike  undertook  to  convoy  him  thither. 
It  was  The  Don. 

Shock's  shout  of  welcome  did  Ike  good,  but  the 
meeting  between  the  two  men  no  one  saw.  After  the 
first  warm  greeting  Shock  began  to  be  aware  of  a  great 
change  in  his  friend.  He  was  as  a  man  whose  heart 
has  been  chilled  to  the  core,  cold,  hard,  irresponsive. 
Toward  Shock  himself  The  Don  was  unchanged  in 
affection  and  admiration,  but  toward  all  the  world  he 
was  a  different  man  from  the  one  Shock  had  known 
in  college  days. 

In  Shock's  work  he  was  mildly  interested,  but  to- 
ward all  that  stood  for  religion  he  cherished  a  feeling 
of  bitterness  amounting  to  hatred.  True,  out  of  re- 
spect he  attended  Shock's  services,  but  he  remained 
unmoved  through  all;  so  that,  after  the  first  joy 
in  his  friend's  companionship,  the  change  in  him 
brought  Shock  a  feeling  of  pain,  and  he  longed  to 
help  him. 

"  We  will  have  to  get  him  to  work,"  he  said  to  tha 
doctor,  to  whom  he  had  confided  The  Don's  history  iij 


THE    PROSPECTOR 

part,  not  omitting  the  great  grief  that  had  fallen 
upon  him. 

"  A  wise  suggestion,"  replied  the  doctor,  who  had 
been  attracted  by  his  young  brother  in  the  profession, 
"  a  wise  suggestion.  This  country,  however,  is  pain- 
fully free  from  all  endemic  or  epidemic  diseases." 

"  Well,  doctor,  you  know  we  ought  to  get  that  hos- 
pital going  in  the  Pass.  Let  us  talk  it  over  with 
him." 

At  the  first  opportunity  Shock  set  forth  his  plans 
for  the  physical  and  moral  redemption  of  the  lumber- 
men and  miners  of  the  Pass. 

"  I  have  seen  the  most  ghastly  cuts  and  bruises  on 
the  chaps  in  the  lumber  camps,"  he  said,  "  and  the 
miners  are  always  blowing  themselves  up,  and  getting 
all  sorts  of  chest  troubles,  not  to  speak  of  mountain 
fever,  rheumatism,  and  the  like.  There  is  absolutely 
no  place  for  them  to  go.  Hickey's  saloon  is  vile, 
noisy,  and  full  of  bugs.  Ugh !  I'll  never  forget  the 
night  I  put  in  there.  I  can  feel  them  yet.  And  be- 
sides, Hickey  has  a  gang  about  him  that  make  it  un- 
safe for  any  man  to  go  there  in  health,  much  less  in 
sickness.  Why,  the  stories  they  tell  are  perfectly 
awful.  A  fellow  goes  in  with  his  month's  pay.  In 
one  night  his  fifty  or  sixty  dollars  are  gone,  no  one 
knows  how.  The  poor  chap  is  drunk,  and  he  cannot 
tell.  When  a  prospector  comes  down  from  the  hills 
and  sells  a  prospect  for  a  good  figure,  from  a  hundred 
to  five  hundred  dollars,  and  sometimes  more,  these  fel- 
lows get  about  him  and  roll  him.  In  two  weeks  he  is 
kicked  out,  half  dead.  Oh,  Hickey  is  a  villain,  and 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY        333 

he  is  in  league  with  the  red-light  houses,  too.  They 
work  together,  to  the  physical  and  moral  damnation 
of  the  place.  We  want  a  clean  stopping-place,  a 
club-room,  and  above  everything  else  a  hospital.  Why, 
when  the  miners  and  lumbermen  happen  to  get  off  the 
same  night  the  blood  flows,  and  there  is  abundant 
practice  for  any  surgeon  for  a  week  or  so." 

"  Sounds  exciting,"  said  The  Don,  mildly  interested. 
"  Why  don't  you  go  up,  doctor?  " 

"  It  is  not  the  kind  of  practice  I  desire.  My  tastes 
are  for  a  gentler  mode  of  life.  The  dangers  of  the 
Pass  are  too  exciting  for  me.  They  are  a  quaint  peo- 
ple," the  doctor  continued,  "  primitive  in  their  ideas 
and  customs,  pre-historic,  indeed,  in  their  practice  of 
our  noble  art.  I  remember  an  experience  of  mine, 
some  years  ago  now,  which  made  a  vivid  impression 
upon  me  at  the  time,  and  indeed,  I  could  not  rid  my- 
self of  the  effects  for  many  days,  for  many  days." 

"What  was  that,  doctor?"  enquired  Shock,  scent- 
ing a  story. 

"  Well,  it  is  a  very  interesting  tale,  a  very  inter- 
esting tale.  Chiefly  so  as  an  illustration  of  how,  in 
circumstances  devoid  of  the  amenities  of  civilised  life, 
the  human  species  tends  toward  barbarism.  A  clear 
case  of  reversion  to  type.  There  was  a  half-breed 
family  living  in  the  Pass,  by  the  name  of  Goulais,  and 
with  the  family  lived  Goulais'  brother,  by  name  An- 
toine,  or,  if  you  spelled  it  as  they  pronounced  it,  it 
would  be  c  Ontwine.'  The  married  one's  name  was 
Pierre.  Antoine  was  a  lumberman,  and  in  the  pur- 
suit of  his  avocation  he  caught  a  severe  cold,  which 


334  THE    PROSPECTOR 

induced  a  violent  inflammation  of  the  bowels,  causing 
very  considerable  distension  and  a  great  deal  of  pain. 
Being  in  the  neighbourhood  attending  some  cases  of 
fever,  I  was  induced  by  some  friends  of  the  Goulais  to 
call  and  see  the  sick  man. 

"  The  moment  I  opened  the  door  I  was  met  by  a 
most  pungent  odour,  a  most  pungent  odour.  Indeed, 
though  I  have  experienced  most  of  the  smells  that 
come  to  one  in  the  practice  of  our  profession,  this 
odour  had  a  pungency  and  a  nauseating  character  all 
its  own.  Looking  into  the  room  I  was  startled  to  ob- 
serve the  place  swimming  with  blood,  literally  swim- 
ming with  blood.  Blood  on  the  floor,  blood  upon  the 
bed,  and  dripping  from  it. 

"  *  What  does  this  mean  ?  Is  someone  being  mur- 
dered ?  Whence  this  blood  ?  * 

"  *  Non !  non !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Goulais.  "  There 
is  no  one  keel.  It  is  one  cat  blood.' 

"  Approaching  the  bed  to  obtain  a  nearer  view  of 
the  patient,  I  discovered  the  cause.  Turning  down 
the  bed  quilt  to  make  an  examination,  you  may  im- 
agine my  surprise  and  horror  to  observe  a  ghastly  and 
bloody  object  lying  across  the  abdomen  of  the  sick 
man.  A  nearer  examination  revealed  this  to  be  an 
immense  cat  which  had  been  ripped  up  from  chin  to 
tail,  and  laid  warm  and  bleeding,  with  all  its  appur- 
tenances, upon  the  unhappy  patient.  All  through 
the  day  the  brother,  Pierre,  had  been  kept  busily  en- 
gaged in  hunting  up  animals  of  various  kinds,  which 
were  to  be  excised  in  this  manner  and  applied  as  a 
poultice. 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY        335 

"  In  uncivilised  communities  the  animal  whose  heal- 
ing virtues  are  supposed  to  be  most  potent  is  the  cat, 
and  the  cure  is  most  certainly  assured  if  the  cat  be 
absolutely  black,  without  a  single  white  hair.  In  this 
communitj7,  however,  deprived  of  many  of  the  domestic 
felicities,  the  absence  of  cats  made  it  necessary  for 
poor  Pierre  to  employ  any  animal  on  which  he  could 
lay  his  hands ;  so,  throughout  the  day,  birds  and  beasts, 
varied  in  size  and  character,  were  offered  upon  this 
altar.  The  cat  which  I  discovered,  however,  was  evi- 
dently that  upon  which  their  hopes  most  firmly  rested ; 
for,  upon  the  failure  of  other  animals,  recourse  would 
be  had  to  the  cat,  which  had  been  kept  in  reserve. 
The  state  of  preservation  suggested  this. 

"  A  very  slight  examination  of  the  patient  showed 
me  that  there  was  practically  no  hope  of  his  recovery, 
and  that  it  would  be  almost  useless  in  me  to  attempt 
to  change  the  treatment,  and  all  the  more  that  I  should 
have  to  overcome  not  only  the  prejudices  of  the  pa- 
tient and  of  his  sister-in-law,  but  also  of  his  very  able- 
bodied  brother,  whose  'devotion  to  his  own  peculiar 
method  of  treatment  amounted  to  fanaticism.  How- 
ever; I  determined  to  make  an  attempt.  I  prepared 
hot  fomentations,  removed  the  cat,  and  made  my  first 
application.  But  no  sooner  had  I  begun  my  treat- 
ment than  I  heard  Pierre  returning  with  a  freshly 
slaughtered  animal  in  his  hand.  The  most  lively 
hope,  indeed,  triumph,  was  manifest  in  his  excited 
bearing.  He  bore  by  the  tail  an  animal  the  character 
of  which  none  of  us  were  in  doubt  from  the  moment 
Pierre  appeared  in  sight.  It  was  the  mephitis  me- 


336  THE    PROSPECTOR 

phitica,  that  mephitine  musteloid  carnivore  witK 
which  none  of  us  desire  a  close  acquaintance,  which 
announces  its  presence  without  difficulty  at  a  very  con- 
siderable distance ;  in  short,  the  animal  vulgarly  known 
as  the  skunk, 

"  '  Voila ! '  exclaimed  Pierre,  holding  the  animal  up 
for  our  admiration.  6  Dis  feex  him  queek.' 

"  *  Ah  I  Mon  Dieu ! 9  exclaimed  his  wife,  covering  her 
face  with  her  apron.  But,  whether  from  devotion  to 
his  art  or  from  affection  for  his  brother,  Pierre  per- 
sisted in  carrying  out  his  treatment.  He  laid  the 
animal,  cleft  and  pungently  odorous,  upon  the 
patient.  Needless  to  say,  I  surrendered  the  case  at 
once." 

The  doctor's  manner  of  telling  the  story  was  so 
extremely  droll  that  both  The  Don  and  Shock  were 
convulsed  with  laughter. 

"  Yes,  they  need  a  hospital,  I  should  say,"  said  The 
Don,  when  they  had  recovered. 

"  Well,"  said  Shock,  "  we  shall  go  up  and  have  a 
look  at  it." 

The  result  of  their  visit  to  the  Pass  was  that  within 
a  few  weeks  a  rough  log  building  was  erected,  floored, 
roofed  in,  chinked  with  moss,  and  lined  with  cotton, 
lumbermen  and  miners  willingly  assisting  in  the  work 
of  building. 

The  Don  became  much  interested  in  the  whole  en- 
terprise. He  visited  the  various  lumber  camps,  laid 
the  scheme  before  the  bosses  and  the  men,  and  in  a 
short  time  gathered  about  two  hundred  dollars  foE 
furnishing  and  equipment. 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY        387 

Shock  left  him  to  carry  out  the  work  alone,  but 
after  two  weeks  had  passed  he  was  surprised  to  re- 
ceive a  message  one  day  that  the  young  doctor  was 
cutting  things  loose  up  in  the  Pass.  With  a  great 
fear  at  his  heart  Shock  rode  up  the  next  day. 

The  first  man  whom  he  met  in  the  little,  straggling 
village  was  Sergeant  Crisp  of  the  North-West 
Mounted  Police,  a  man  of  high  character,  and  famed 
in  the  Territories  alike  for  his  cool  courage  and  un- 
impeachable integrity. 

"  Up  to  see  the  young  doctor?  "  was  the  Sergeant's 
salutation.  "  You  will  find  him  at  Nancy's,  I  guess," 
pointing  to  where  a  red  light  shone  through  the  black 
night.  "  Do  you  want  me  along  ?  " 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Shock.  "I  think  I  had 
better  go  alone." 

For  a  moment  he  hesitated. 

"  How  does  one  go  in  ?  "  he  enquired. 

"  Why,  turn  the  handle  and  walk  right  in,"  said  the 
Sergeant,  with  a  laugh.  "  You  don't  want  to  be  bash- 
ful there." 

With  a  sickening  feeling  of  horror  at  his  heart 
Shock  strode  to  the  red-light  door,  turned  the  handle, 
and  walked  in. 

In  the  room  were  a  number  of  men,  and  two  or  three 
women  in  all  the  shameless  dishabille  of  their  profes- 
sion. As  Shock  opened  the  door  a  young  girl,  with 
much  of  her  youthful  freshness  and  beauty  still  about 
her,  greeted  him  with  a  foul  salutation. 

Shock  shrank  back  from  her  as  if  she  had  struck 
him  in  the  face.  The  girl  noticed  the  action,  came 


THE     PROSPECTOR 

nearer  to  him,  and  offered  him  her  hand.  Shock,  over- 
coming his  feeling  of  shame,  took  the  hand  offered 
him,  and  holding  it  for  a  moment,  said :  "  My  dear 
girl,  this  is  no  place  for  you.  Your  home  waits  for 
you.  Your  Saviour  loves  you." 

In  the  noise  that  filled  the  room  no  one  save  the  girl 
herself  heard  his  words;  but  two  or  three  men  who 
knew  Shock  well,  amazed  at  his  appearance  in  that 
place,  exclaimed :  "  It's  the  preacher !  " 

Nancy,  the  keeper  of  the  house,  who  was  sitting  at 
one  of  the  tables  gambling  with  some  men,  sprang  to 
her  feet  and,  seeing  Shock,  poured  out  a  torrent  of  foul 
blasphemy. 

"  Get  out  of  this  house !  Get  out,  I  say !  You've 
no  business  here.  Go,  blank  your  blank  soul!  Take 
yourself  out  of  this !  " 

She  worked  herself  into  a  raging  fury.  Shock 
stood  quietly  looking  at  her. 

"  Here,  Tom !  Pat !  Put  this  blank,  blank  out,  or 
you'll  go  yourselves.  What  do  I  keep  you  for  ?  " 

Three  or  four  men,  responding  to  her  call,  ap- 
proached Shock. 

Meantime  The  Don,  who  had  been  sitting  at  one  of 
the  tables  with  three  others,  a  pile  of  money  before 
him,  stood  gazing  in  amazement  at  Shock,  unable  to 
believe  his  eyes. 

As  the  men  approached  Shock  The  Don  came 
forward. 

"  Stop !  "  he  said.     "  This  man  is  my  friend." 

"  Friend  or  no  friend,"  shrieked  Nancy,  beside  her- 
self with  rage,  "  out  he  goes.  He  called  me  names  in 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY        339 

this  town.  He  threatened  to  drive  me  out  of  the 
town." 

"  Come,  Don,"  said  Shock,  ignoring  Nancy.  "  I 
want  you." 

"  Wait  one  moment  and  I  am  with  you,"  replied 
The  Don,  going  back  to  the  table  where  he  had  been 
sitting.  "  We  will  finish  this  game  again,  gentle- 
men," he  said.  "  Hickey,  that's  my  money.  Hand 
it  over." 

"  You  lie !  "  said  Hickey.  "  Curse  you  for  a  blank, 
blank  swell !  You  can't  come  that  game  over  us.  It 
aint  your  money,  anyway,  and  you  know  it.  That's 
money  you  raised  for  the  hospital.  Come  on,  boys, 
let's  clean  them  out.  They  don't  belong  to  us." 

With  these  words  he  sprang  at  The  Don,  but  The 
Don's  training  in  the  'Varsity  gymnasium  had  not 
been  in  vain,  and  he  met  Hickey  with  a  straight  left- 
hander that  sent  him  into  the  corner  upon  his  shoul- 
ders, with  his  feet  in  the  air. 

Simultaneously  with  Hickey's  atttack,  Nancy, 
shrieking  "Kill  him!  kiU  him!"  flew  at  Shock,  and 
fastening  her  fingers  in  his  hair  dragged  his  head 
downward.  Taking  advantage  of  this  attack  a  man 
from  the  crowd  rushed  in  and  struck  him  a  heavy  blow 
on  the  neck,  and  as  he  was  falling  kicked  him  full  in 
his  face.  Immediately  another,  jumping  on  Shock's 
prostrate  form,  began  kicking  him  savagely  with  his 
heavy  calked  boots* 

"Give  it  to  him!"  yelled  Nancy,  dancing  about 
like  a  fiend. 

"  Stop !     Stop !     You  have  killed  him !  "  shrieked 


340  THE    PROSPECTOR 

the  young  girl,  Nellie  by  name,  throwing  herself  upon 
Shock  and  coverin-g  him  with  her  body. 

"  Get  up,  you  blank  fool ! "  yelled  Nancy  9  seizing 
her  by  the  hair. 

At  this  moment,  however,  The  Don,  freed  from 
Hickey,  sprang  to  Shock's  side,  seized  Nancy  by  the 
back  of  the  neck  and  hurled  her  across  the  room, 
caught  the  man  who  was  still  trying  to  kick  Shock  to 
death,  by  the  throat,  and  holding  him  at  half  arm 
struck  him  a  terrific  blow  and  threw  him  like  a  log 
against  his  companion,  who  came  rushing  to  his 
assistance. 

Meantime  Nancy,  still  shrieking  her  refrain,  "  Kill 
him !  kill  him ! "  was  dragging  forward  Hickey,  who 
had  partially  recovered  from  The  Don's  blow,  to  renew: 
the  attack. 

"  Come  on,  you  cowards ! "  she  cried  to  the  other 
men.  "  What  are  you  afraid  of?  Come  on." 

Stung  by  her  taunts  the  men,  led  by  Hickey,  pre- 
pared to  rush,  when  the  door  opened  and  Sergeant 
Crisp  appeared.  Immediately  the  men  who  had  at- 
tacked Shock  vanished  through  the  back  door. 

"  Hickey,  I  want  you.  Stand  where  you  are.  You 
too,  Nancy,  and  every  man  of  you.  What's  this  2 
Someone  hurt  ?  Why,  it's  the  preacher.  This  may  be 
serious,"  he  continued,  drawing  his  revolver.  "  Don't 
move.  Not  a  man  of  you.  What  does  this  mean?  " 
he  asked,  addressing  The  Don. 

"  My  friend  there,"  said  The  Don,  "  came  for  me. 
We  were  going  out  when  they  attacked  us." 

"  Go  and  get  help,"  replied  the  Sergeant.     "  We 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY        341 

will  carry  him  to  the  hospital.  You  would,  eh?  "  to 
one  of  the  men  who  started  for  the  door.  "  Here,  put 
up  your  hands.  Quick !  "  There  was  a  flash  and  a 
click,  and  the  man  stood  handcuffed. 

In  a  few  moments  The  Don  came  back  with  help, 
and  they  carried  Shock,  groaning  and  bleeding,  to  the 
hospital,  while  the  Sergeant,  putting  a  man  in  charge 
of  Nancy  and  her  gang,  accompanied  The  Don. 

In  an  agony  of  remorseful  solicitude  for  his  friend, 
and  cursing  himself  for  his  folly,  The  Don  directed 
the  movements  of  the  bearers. 

In  the  darkness  behind  them  came  the  girl  Nellie, 
following  to  the  door  of  the  hospital. 

"What  are  you  after?"  said  Sergeant  Crisp 
sharply.  "  We  don't  want  you  here." 

"  I  want  to  see  the  doctor,"  she  said  earnestly. 

"  Well?  "  said  The  Don,  facing  round  to  her. 

"  Let  me  nurse  him,"  she  said  in  a  hurried,  timid 
voice.  "  I  have  had  training.  You  can  depend  upon 
me." 

The  Don  hesitated,  glancing  at  her  dishevelled, 
gaudy  attire,  painted  cheeks,  and  frowsy  hair. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "  you  may  come," 

The  girl  disappeared,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes 
returned  dressed  modestly  and  quietly,  the  paint  and 
pencilling  washed  from  her  face,  her  hair  smoothed 
behind  her  ears.  The  Don  looked  her  over,  and  nod- 
ding approval  said :  "  That  is  better.  Now,  hold  the 
light  for  me." 

His  examination  revealed  serious  injuries  about  the 
head  and  face,  three  ribs  broken,  one  piercing  the 


THE     PROSPECTOR 

lungs.  With  Nellie's  assistance  he  managed  to  dress 
the  wounds  and  set  the  broken  bones  before  Shock 
regained  full  consciousness. 

As  they  were  finishing  Shock  opened  his  eyes  and 
fixed  them  enquiringly  upon  The  Don's  face. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  feel,  old  chap  ?  Pretty  sore,  I 
guess,"  enquired  The  Don. 

Shock  tried  to  speak,  but  his  attempt  ended  in  a 
groan.  Still  his  eyes  remained  fastened  enquiringly 
upon  The  Don's  face.  The  Don  bent  over  him. 

"  The  money,  Don,"  he  said  with  great  difficulty. 
"Hospital?" 

The  Don  groaned.  He  understood  only  too  well; 
and  unable  to  escape  the  insisting  eyes,  replied: 
"  Yes,  Shock.  But  I  will  make  it  all  right.  Hickey 
has  it  now." 

Shock  closed  his  eyes  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then, 
opening  them  again,  compelled  The  Don's  attention. 

"  Send  for  Ike,"  he  whispered.     "  Right  away." 

Next  day  Ike  appeared  in  a  cold,  white  rage  at  The 
Don.  He  had  got  the  whole  story  from  the  messenger, 
and  blamed  nj  one  but  The  Don. 

As  Shock's  eyes  rested  upon  Ike's  lean,  hard  face, 
bent  over  him  so  anxiously,  he  smiled  a  glad  welcome. 

"  Don't  look  like  that,  Ike,"  he  said.  "  I'll  soon 
be  fit." 

"  Why,  you  just  bet  1 "  said  Ike,  with  a  loud  laugh, 
deriding  all  anxiety. 

"  Ike,"  whispered  Shock.  Ike  bent  over  him.  "  I 
want  two  hundred  dollars  at  once.  Don't  tell." 

Without  a  word  of  questioning  Ike  nodded,  sayings 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY 

"  In  half  an  hour,  I  guess."  But  in  less  time  he  ap- 
peared and,  slipping  the  roll  of  bills  under  Shock's 
pillow,  said:  "  It's  aU  there." 

"  Good  old  boy,"  said  Shock,  trying  to  offer  his 
hand. 

Ike  took  his  hand  carefully.  "  Is  there  anything 
else  ?  "  he  said,  his  voice  grave  and  hoarse. 

"  No,  old  boy,"  said  Shock.     "  Thank  you." 

"  Then,"  said  Ike,  "  you'll  keep  quieter  without  me, 
I  guess.  I'll  be  on  hand  outside."  And  with  a  nod  he 
strode  out  of  the  room,  his  face  working  with  grief  and 
rage. 

For  a  week  Ike  remained  at  the  Pass  in  hourly  at- 
tendance at  the  hospital,  looking  in  at  every  chance 
upon  the  sick  man.  In  Shock's  presence  he  carried  an 
exaggerated  air  of  cheerful  carelessness,  but  outside 
he  went  about  with  a  face  of  sullen  gloom.  Toward 
The  Don,  with  whom  he  had  previously  been  on  most 
fmndly  terms,  he  was  wrathfully  contemptuous,  dis- 
daining even  a  word  of  enquiry  for  his  patient,  pre- 
ferring to  receive  his  information  from  the  nurse.  In 
Ike's  contempt,  more  than  in  anything  else,  The  Don 
read  the  judgment  of  honourable  men  upon  his  con- 
duct, and  this  deepened  to  a  degree -almost  unendurable 
his  remorse  and  self-loathing. 

One  morning,  when  the  report  was  not  so  favourable, 
Ike  stopped  him  with  the  question :  "  Will  he  git 
better  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  The  Don  gloomily,  "  I  have  not  given 
up  hope." 

"  Look  here,"  replied  Ike,  "  I  want  you  to  listen  to 


344  THE    PROSPECTOR 

me."  His  tone  was  quiet,  but  relentlessly  hard.  "  If 
he  don't,  you'll  talk  to  me  about  it." 

The  Don  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  Would  you  kill  me?  "  he  asked,  with  a  quiet  smile. 

"  Well,"  drawled  Ike  slowly,  «  I'd  try  to." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  The  Don.  "  That  would  save 
me  the  trouble."  And,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  left  the 
cowboy  in  a  very  puzzled  state  of  mind. 

But  Shock  did  not  die.  His  splendid  constitution, 
clean  blood,  and  wholesome  life  stood  off  the  grim 
enemy,  and  after  two  weeks  of  terrible  anxiety  The 
Don  began  to  hope,  and  insisted  on  the  nurse  allowing 
herself  some  relaxation  from  her  long  watch. 

But  as  Shock  grew  stronger  The  Don's  gloom  deep- 
ened. He  had  determined  that  once  his  friend  was  fit 
for  work  again  he  would  relieve  him  of  the  burden  of 
his  presence.  He  had  only  brought  trouble  and  shame 
to  the  man  who  was  his  most  trusted,  almost  his  only 
friend. 

Life  looked  black  to  The  Don  in  those  days.  Lloyd's 
treachery  had  smitten  him  hard.  Not  only  had  it 
shaken  his  faith  in  man,  but  in  God  as  well,  for  with 
him  Lloyd  had  represented  all  that  was  most  sacred  in 
religion.  Death,  too,  had  robbed  him  of  his  heart's 
sole  treasure,  and  in  robbing  him  of  this  it  had  taken 
from  him  what  had  given  worth  to  his  life  and  inspira- 
tion to  his  work.  Of  what  use  now  was  anything  he 
had  kft? 

He  was  confronted,  too,  with  the  immediate  results 
of  his  recent  folly.  The  hospital  funds,  of  which  he 
was  the  custodian,  had  disappeared.  He  knew  that 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY        345 

Hickey  had  robbed  him  of  most  of  them,  but  in  order 
to  recover  them  he  would  have  to  acknowledge  his 
crime  of  using  them  for  his  own  ends.  As  he  moved 
in  and  out  among  the  men,  too,  he  had  caught  mur- 
murs of  a  charge  of  embezzlement  that  in  his  present 
condition  filled  him  with  shame  and  fear.  If  the  thing 
could  be  staved  off  for  a  month  he  could  make  it  right, 
but  he  knew  well  that  the  gang  would  give  him  as 
little  respite  as  they  could.  Indeed,  it  was  only  Ser- 
geant Crisp's  refusal  to  entertain  any  formal  charge 
while  Shock's  life  was  in  danger,  that  had  saved  The 
Don  so  far.  But  while  Sergeant  Crisp  had  stood  be- 
tween him  and  his  enemies  thus  far,  he  knew  that  a 
day  of  reckoning  must  come,  for  the  Seregant  was  not 
a  man  to  allow  considerations  of  friendship  to  interfere 
with  duty.  With  Sergeant  Crisp  duty  was  supreme. 

But  more  than  The  Don  was  Shock  anxious  to  have 
this  matter  of  the  hospital  funds  cleared  up,  and  he 
only  waited  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  The  Don  about 
it.  The  opportunity  was  forced  on  him  unexpectedly. 

One  day,  as  he  lay  apparently  asleep,  the  Sergeant 
called  The  Don  into  the  next  room.  Through  the  pa- 
per and  cotton  partition  their  voices  came  quite  clearly. 

"  I  have  been  wanting  to  speak  to  you  about  a  mat- 
ter," the  Sergeant  said,  with  some  degree  of  hesitation. 
"Hickey's  friends  are  saying  nasty  things  about 

you." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  The  Don,  knowing 
only  too  well. 

"  About  the  hospital  funds,  you  know.     In  fact, 
are  saying " 


846  THE    PROSPECTOR 

At  this  point  the  nurse  came  running  in. 

"  Mr.  Macgregor  wants  you,  doctor,  at  once,55  she 
cried,  and  The  Don  hurried  in  to  him. 

"  Go  and  tell  the  Sergeant  to  wait,"  Shock  said  to 
the  nurse,  and  she  went  out  leaving  The  Don  alone 
with  him. 

"  Don,"  said  Shock,  "  I  know  all  about  it.  Don't 
speak.  Here,"  taking  the  roll  of  bills  from  under  his 
pillow,  "  here  is  the  hospital  money.  Quick !  Don't 
ask  questions  now.  Go  to  the  Sergeant.  Go !  go !  " 

"  Nothing  wrong?  "  asked  the  Sergeant  anxiously, 
when  The  Don  had  returned. 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  The  Don.  "  Nothing  serious.  You 
were  speaking  about  some  hospital  funds?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  the  fact  is,  they  are — it's  an  ugly  thing 
to  say — they  are  charging  you  with  misappropriation 
of  those  funds." 

"  Oh,  they  are?  "  said  The  Don,  who  had  by  this 
time  got  back  his  nerve.  "  Well,  Sergeant,  let  them 
come  on.  The  accounts  will  be  ready.  And,  indeed, 
I  shall  be  glad  to  turn  over  the  funds  to  yourself  now. 
Excuse  me  a  moment."  He  went  to  his  desk  and 
brought  out  a  pass  book.  "  This  shows  all  the  sub- 
scriptions, about  two  hundred  dollars,  I  think.  And 
here,"  he  said,  drawing  the  bills  out  of  his  pocket, 
w  you  will  find  the  whole  amount." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  Sergeant,  "  not  at  all,  my 
dear  fellow.  I  thought  it  right  you  should  know — be 
prepared,  you  understand." 

"Thank  you,  Sergeant,"  said  The  Don.  "Anj 
time  my  books  can  be  seen.  Good-bye." 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY        347 

The  Don  went  in  to  Shock,  sent  the  nurse  out  for  a 
walk,  shut  the  door,  and  then,  returning  to  the  bed, 
threw  himself  on  his  knees. 

"  Oh,  Shock,"  he  said,  "  this  is  too  much.  What 
can  I  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,  old  chap.  Don't  say  anything. 
What  is  that  between  us  ?  We  have  been  through  too 
many  things  together  to  have  this  bother  us." 

"Shock!  Shock!"  continued  The  Don,  "I  have 
been  an  awful  fool,  a  blank,  cursed  fool !  " 

"  Don't  swear,  old  chap,"  said  Shock. 

"  No,  no,  I  won't,  but  I  curse  myself.  I  have  been 
waiting  for  this  chance  to  tell  you.  I  don't  want  you 
to  think  too  badly  of  me.  This  thing  began  in 
Hickey's  saloon  some  days  before  that  night.  He  was 
playing  some  fellows  from  the  camp  a  skin  game.  I 
called  him  down  and  he  challenged  me.  I  took  him 
up,  and  cleaned  him  out  easily  enough.  You  know 
my  old  weakness.  The  fever  came  back  upon  me,  and 
I  got  going  for  some  days.  That  night  I  was  called 
to  visit  a  sick  girl  at  Nancy's.  The  gang  came  in, 
found  me  there,  and  throwing  down  their  money  dared 
me  to  play.  Well,  I  knew  it  was  play  or  fight.  I 
took  off  my  coat  and  went  for  them.  They  cleaned 
me  out,  I  can't  tell  how.  I  could  not  get  on  to  their 
trick.  Then,  determined  to  find  out,  I  put  up  that — 
that  other  money,  you  know — and  I  was  losing  it  fast, 
too,  when  you  came  in." 

As  Shock  listened  to  The  Don's  story  his  face  grew 
brighter  and  brighter. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  relief,  "  is 


348  THE    PROSPECTOR 

that  all?  Is  that  the  whole  thing?  Tell  me,  as  God 
hears  you ! " 

"  That's  the  whole  story,  as  God  hears  me ! "  said 
The  Don  solemnly. 

"Oh,  thank  God!"  said  Shock.  "I  thought— I 
was  afraid "  He  paused,  unable  to  go  on. 

"  What !  You  thought  I  had  forgotten,"  cried  The 
Don.  "  Well,  I  confess  things  did  look  bad.  But  I 
want  to  tell  you  I  am  clean,  and  may  God  kill  me  be- 
fore I  can  forget !  No,  no  woman  shall  ever  touch  my 
lips  while  I  live.  Do  you  believe  me,  Shock  ?  " 

Shock  put  out  his  hand.  He  was  still  too  much 
moved  to  speak. 

At  length  he  said:  "Nothing  else  matters,  Don. 
I  could  not  bear  the  other  thing." 

For  some  minutes  the  friends  sat  in  silence. 

"  But,  Don,"  said  Shock  at  length,  "  you  can- 
not go  on  this  way.  Your  whole  life  is  being 
ruined.  You  cannot  draw  off  from  God.  You  have 
been  keeping  Him  at  arm's  length.  This  will 
not  do." 

"  It  is  no  use,  Shock,"  said  The  Don  bitterly.  "  My 
head  is  all  right.  I  believe  with  you.  But  I  cannot 

get  over  the  feeling  I  have  for  that "  He  broke 

off  suddenly. 

"  I  know,  I  know.  - 1  feel  it,  too,  old  chap,  but  after 
all,  it  is  not  worth  while.  And  besides,  Don, — forgive 
me  saying  this — if  it  had  not  been  true  about  you  he 
could  not  have  hurt  you,  could  he?  " 

The  Don  winced. 

"  I  am  not  excusing  him,  nor  blaming  you,"  con- 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY        349 

tinued  Shock  eagerly,  "  but  a  man  has  got  to  be 
honest.     Isn't  that  right?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  is  true  enough,  Shock.  I  was  a  beast, 
as  you  know,  at  that  time  in  my  life,  but  I  had  put  it 
all  past  me,  and  I  believed  that  God  had  forgiven  me. 
And  then  those  two  raked  it  all  up  again,  and  broke 
my  darling's  heart,  and  drove  me  away,  an  outcast. 
He  is  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  and  she  is  a  member  of 
the  Christian  Church." 

" Don,'?  said  Shock  gravely,  "that  won't  do.  You 
are  not  fair." 

The  door  opened  quietly,  and  the  nurse  came  in  and 
sat  down  out  of  Shock's  sight  behind  the  bed. 

"  Now,  Don,  I  want  you  to  read  for  me  that  tale  of 
the  Pharisee  and  the  woman  who  was  a  sinner.  For 
my  sake,  mind  you,  as  well  as  for  yours,  for  I  was 
wrong,  too,  on  this  matter.  I  confess  I  hated  him,  for 
I  cannot  help  thinking  that  he  has  done  me  a  great 
wrong,  and  I  have  found  it  hard  enough  to  say  the 
Lord's  Prayer.  .  Perhaps  you  had  better  read  this  let- 
ter so  that  you  may  understand." 

He  took  from  under  his  pillow  Mrs.  Fairbanks'  let- 
ter and  gave  it  to  The  Don,  who  read  it  in  silence. 
Poor  Shock!  He  was  opening  up  wounds  that  none 
had  ever  seen,  or  even  suspected,  and  the  mere  uncover- 
ing of  them  brought  him  keen  anguish  and  humili- 
ation. 

As  The  Don  read  the  letter  he  began  to  swear  deep 
oaths. 

"  Stop,  Don.  You  mustn't  swear.  Now  listen  to 
me.  I  think  she  has  a  perfect  right  to  do  as  she  has 


850  THE     PROSPECTOR 

been  doing.  But — Lloyd" — Shock  seemed  to  get 
the  name  out  with  difficulty, — "  was  my  friend,  and  I 
think  he  has  not  been  fair." 

"Fair!"  burst  out  The  Don.  "The  low  down 
villain!" 

"  But  listen.  The  question  with  me  has  been  how 
to  forgive  him,  for  I  must  forgive  him  or  keep  far 
from  Him  who  has  forgiven  me,  and  that  I  cannot 
afford  to  do.  Now  read."  And  The  Don  took  up  the 
Bible  from  the  little  table  beside  Shock's  bed,  and  read 
that  most  touching  of  all  tales  told  of  the  Saviour  of 
the  sinful. 

"  *  Wherefore  I  say  unto  thee,  her  sins,  which  are 
many,  are  forgiven,  for  she  loved  much :  but  to  whom 
little  is  forgiven,  the  same  loveth  little.  And  he  said 
unto  her,  Thy  sins  are  forgiven.  Thy  faith  hath 
saved  thee ;  go  in  peace.5  " 

As  The  Don  finished  reading,  a  sound  of  sobbing 
broke  the  silence  in  the  room. 

"Who  is  that?  Is  that  you,  Nell?"  said  Shock. 
"What  is  the  matter,  Nell?  That  is  for  you,  too. 
Now  we  will  have  Don  read  it  again."  And  once  more, 
with  great  difficulty,  The  Don  read  the  words,  so  ex- 
quisitely delicate,  so  divinely  tender. 

"  That  is  for  you,  too,  Nell,"  said  Shock. 

"  For  me?  "  she  cried.     "  Oh,  no,  not  for  me !  " 

"  Yes,  Nell,  my  sister,  it  is  for  you." 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  with  a  tempest  of  sobs,  "  don't  call 
me  that.  It  cannot  be.  I  can  never  be  clean  again." 

"  Yes,  Nell,  He  says  it  Himself.  <  Her  sins,  which 
are  many,  are  forgiven,'  and  He  can  make  you  clean 


THE    DON'S    RECOVERY        851 

as  the  angels.  We  all  need  to  be  made  clean,  and  He 
has  undertaken  to  cleanse  us." 

It  was  a  very  humble  and  chastened  man  that  went 
out  from  Shock's  presence  that  evening.  Through 
the  days  of  the  week  that  followed  The  Don  went  about 
his  work  speaking  little,  but  giving  himself  with 
earnestness  and  in  a  new  spirit,  more  gentle,  more  sym- 
pathetic, to  his  ministry  to  the  sick  in  the  camps  and 
shacks  round  about.  But  still  the  gloom  was  unlifted 
from  his  heart.  Day  by  day,  however,  in  response  to 
Shock's  request  he  would  read  something  of  the  story 
of  that  great  loving  ministration  to  the  poor,  and 
sick,  and  needy,  and  of  infinite  compassion  for  the  sin- 
ful and  outcast,  till  one  day,  when  Shock  had  been 
allowed  for  the  first  time  to  sit  m  his  chair,  and  The 
Don  was  about  to  read,  Shock  asked  for  the 
story  of  the  debtors,  and  after  The  Don  had  finished 
he  took  from  his  pocket  Brown's  letter  and  said: 
"  Now,  Don,  forgive  me.  I  am  going  to  read  some- 
thing that  will  make  you  understand  that  story,"  and 
he  read  from  Brown's  letter  the  words  that  described 
Betty's  last  hour. 

The  Don  sat  white  and  rigid  until  Shock  came  to 
the  words,  "  God  forgives  us  all,  and  we  must  for- 
give," when  his  self-control  gave  way  and  he  aban- 
doned himself  to  the  full  indulgence  of  his  great 
sorrow. 

"  It  was  not  to  grieve  you,  Don,"  said  Shock,  after 
his  friend's  passion  of  grief  had  subsided.  "  It  was  not 
to  grieve  you,  you  know,  but  to  show  you  what  is 
.worth  while  seeing — the  manner  of  God's  forgiveness ; 


852  THE    PROSPECTOR 

for  as  she  forgave  and  took  you  to  her  pure  heart 
again  without  fear  or  shrinking,  so  God  forgives  us. 
And,  Don,  it  is  not  worth  while,  in  the  face  of  so  great 
a  forgiveness,  to  do  anything  else  but  forgive,  and  it 
is  a  cruel  thing,  and  a  wicked  thing,  to  keep  at  a  dis- 
tance such  love  as  that.** 

a  No,  no,"  said  The  Don,  "  it  is  not  worth  while. 
It  is  wicked,  and  it  is  folly.     I  will  go  back.     I 
forgive." 


XIX 

THE    REGIONS    BEYOND 

THE  visit  of  the  Superintendent  to  a  mission 
field  varied  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
field  and  the  character  of  the  work  done, 
between  an  inquisitorial  process  and  a  tri- 
umphal march.  Nothing  escaped  his  keen  eye.  It 
needed  no  questioning  on  his  part  to  become  pos- 
sessed of  almost  all  the  facts  necessary  to  his  full  in- 
formation about  the  field,  the  work,  the  financial  con- 
dition, and  the  general  efficiency  of  the  missionary. 
One  or  two  points  he  was  sure  to  make  inquiry  about. 
One  of  these  was  the  care  the  missionary  had  taken  of 
the  outlying  points.  He  had  the  eye  of  an  explorer, 
which  always  rests  on  the  horizon.  The  results  of 
his  investigations  could  easily  be  read  in  his  joy  or 
his  grief,  his  hope  or  his  disappointment,  his  genuine 
pride  in  his  missionary  or  his  blazing,  scorching  re- 
buke. The  one  consideration  with  the  Superintendent 
was  the  progress  of  the  work.  The  work  first,  the 
work  last,  the  work  always. 

The  announcement  to  Shock  through  his  Convener, 
that  the  Superintendent  purposed  making  a  visit  in  the 
spring,  filled  him  with  more  or  less  anxiety.  He  re- 
membered only  too  well  his  failure  at  the  Fort;  he 
thought  of  that  postscript  in  the  Superintendent's 

353 


854  THE   PROSPECTOR 

letter  to  his  Convener;  he  knew  that  even  in  Loon 
Lake  and  in  the  Pass  his  church  organization  was  not 
anything  to  boast  of;  and  altogether  he  considered 
that  the  results  he  had  to  show  for  his  year's  labour 
were  few  and  meagre. 

The  winter  had  been  long  and  severe.  In  the  Pass 
there  had  been  a  great  deal  of  sickness,  both  among 
the  miners  and  among  the  lumbermen.  The  terrible 
sufferings  these  men  had  to  endure  from  the  cold  and 
exposure,  for  which  they  were  all  too  inadequately 
prepared,  brought  not  only  physical  evils  upon  them, 
but  reacted  in  orgies  unspeakably  degrading. 

The  hospital  was  full.  Nell  had  been  retained  by 
The  Don  as  nurse,  and  although  for  a  time  this  meant 
constant  humiliation  and  trial  to  her,  she  bore  herself 
with  such  gentle  humility,  and  did  her  work  with  such 
sweet  and  untiring  patience,  that  the  men  began  to 
regard  her  with  that  entire  respect  and  courteous  con- 
sideration that  men  of  their  class  never  fail  to  give  to 
pure  and  high-minded  women. 

The  Don  was  full  of  work.  He  visited  the  camps, 
treated  the  sick  and  wounded  there,  and  brought  down 
to  the  hospital  such  as  needed  to  be  moved  thither, 
and  gradually  won  his  way  into  the  confidence  of  all 
who  came  into  touch  with  him.  Even  Ike,  after  long 
hesitation  and  somewhat  careful  observation,  gave  him 
once  more  his  respect  and  his  friendship. 

The  doctor  was  kept  busy  by  an  epidemic  of  diph- 
theric croup  that  had  broken  out  among  the  children 
of  the  Loon  Lake  district,  and  began  to  take  once 
more  pride  in  his  work,  and  to  regain  his  self-respect 


THE   REGIONS   BEYOND        355 

and  self-control.  He  took  especial  pride  and  joy  in 
the  work  of  The  Don  at  the  Pass,  and  did  all  he  could 
to  make  the  hospital  and  the  club  room  accomplish 
all  the  good  that  Shock  had  hoped  for  them. 

But  though  the  hospital  and  club  room  had  done 
much  for  the  men  of  the  Pass,  there  was  still  the  an- 
cient warfare  between  the  forces  that  make  for  man- 
hood and  those  that  make  for  its  destruction.  Hickey 
still  ran  his  saloon,  and  his  gang  still  aided  him  in  all 
his  nefarious  work.  Men  were  still  "  run  "  into  the 
saloon  or  the  red-light  houses,  there  to  be  "  rolled," 
and  thence  to  be  kicked  out,  fit  candidates  for  the  hos- 
pital. The  hospital  door  was  ever  open  for  them,  and 
whatever  the  history,  the  physical  or  moral  condition 
of  the  patient,  he  was  received,  and  with  gentle,  loving 
ministration  tended  back  to  health,  and  sent  out  again 
to  camp  or  mine,  often  only  to  return  for  another 
plunge  into  the  abyss  of  lust  and  consequent  misery ; 
sometimes,  however,  to  set  his  feet  upon  the  upward 
trail  that  led  to  pure  and  noble  manhood.  For  The 
Don,  while  he  never  preached,  took  pains  to  make  clear 
to  all  who  came  under  his  charge  the  results  of  their 
folly  and  their  sin  to  body  and  to  mind,  as  well  as  to 
soul,  and  he  had  the  trick  of  forcing  them  to  take  upon 
themselves  the  full  responsibility  for  their  destiny, 
whether  it  was  to  be  strength,  soundness  of  mind,  hap- 
piness, heaven,  or  disease,  insanity,  misery,  hell.  It 
was  heart-breaking  work,  for  the  disappointments 
were  many  and  bitter,  but  with  now  and  then  an 
achievement  of  such  splendid  victory  as  gave  hope 
and  courage  to  keep  up  the  fight. 


356  THE   PROSPECTOR 

At  Loon  Lake  during  the  winter  Shock  had  devoted 
himself  to  the  perfecting  of  his  church  organization. 
A  Communion  Roll  had  been  formed  and  on  it  names 
entered  of  men  and  women  whose  last  church  connec- 
tion reached  back  for  ten  or  fifteen  or  twenty  years, 
and  along  with  those  the  names  of  some  who  had  never 
before  had  a  place  in  that  mystic  order  of  the  saints 
of  God.  And,  indeed,  with  some  of  these  Shock  had 
had  his  own  difficulty,  not  in  persuading  them  to  offer 
themselves  as  candidates,  but  in  persuading  himself 
to  assume  the  responsibility  of  accepting  them.  To 
Shock  with  his  Highland  training  it  was  a  terribly 
solemn  step  to  "  come  forward."  The  responsibility 
assumed,  bulked  so  largely  in  the  opinion  of  those 
whom  Shock  had  always  regarded  as  peculiarly  men  of 
God,  that  it  almost,  if  not  altogether,  obliterated  the 
privilege  gained. 

When  a  man  like  Sinclair,  whose  reputable  char- 
acter and  steady  life  seemed  to  harmonize  with  such  a 
step,  he  had  little  difficulty ;  and  had  the  Kid,  with  his 
quick  intelligence,  his  fineness  of  spirit  and  his  win- 
ning disposition,  applied  for  admission,  Shock  would 
have  had  no  hesitation  in  receiving  him.  But  the  Kid, 
although  a  regular  attendant  on  the  services,  and 
though  he  took  especial  delight  in  the  Sabbath  even- 
ing gatherings  after  service,  had  not  applied,  and 
Shock  would  not  think  of  bringing  him  under  pres- 
sure; and  all  the  more  because  he  had  not  failed  to 
observe  that  the  Kid's  interest  seemed  to  be  more  pro- 
nounced and  more  steadfast  in  those  meetings  in  which 
Marion's  singing  was  the  feature.  True,  this  pecul- 


THE   REGIONS   BEYOND        357 

iarity  the  Kid  shared  with  many  others  of  the  young 
men  in  the  district,  to  Shock's  very  considerable  em- 
barrassment, though  to  the  girl's  innocent  and  frank 
delight ;  and  it  is  fair  to  say  that  the  young  men, 
whom  Shock  had  put  upon  their  honor  in  regard  to 
one  who  was  but  a  child,  never  by  word  or  look  failed 
in  that  manly  and  considerate  courtesy  that  marks 
the  noble  nature  in  dealing  with  the  weak  and  unpro- 
tected. 

The  truth  about  the  Kid  was  that  that  gay  young 
prince  of  broncho  busters,  with  his  devil-may-care 
manner  and  his  debonair  appearance,  was  so  greatly 
sought  after,  so  flattered  and  so  feted  by  the  riotous 
and  reckless  company  at  the  Fort,  of  which  the  In- 
spector and  his  wife  were  the  moving  spirits,  that  he 
was  torn  between  the  two  sets  of  influences  that  played 
upon  him,  and  he  had  not  yet  come  to  the  point  of 
final  decision  as  to  which  kingdom  he  should  seek. 

It  was  with  Ike  and  men  like  Ike,  however,  that 
Shock  had  his  greatest  difficulty,  for  when  the  earnest 
appeal  was  made  for  men  to  identify  themselves  with 
the  cause  that  stood  for  all  that  was  noblest  in  the 
history  of  the  race,  and  to  swear  allegiance  to  Him 
who  was  at  once  the  ideal  and  the  Saviour  of  men,  Ike 
without  any  sort  of  hesitation  came  forward  and  to 
Shock's  amazement,  and,  indeed,  to  his  dismay,  offered 
himself.  For  Ike  was  regarded  through  all  that  south 
country  as  the  most  daringly  reckless  of  all  the  cattle- 
men, and  never  had  he  been  known  to  weaken  either 
in  "  takin'  his  pizen,"  in  "  playin'  the  limit "  in 
poker,  or  in  "  standin'  up  agin  any  man  that  thought 


358  THE   PROSPECTOR 

he  could  dust  his  pants."  Of  course  he  was  "  white." 
Everyone  acknowledged  that.  But  just  how  far  this 
quality  of  whiteness  fitted  him  as  a  candidate  for  the 
communion  table  Shock  was  at  a  loss  to  say. 

He  resolved  to  deal  with  Ike  seriously,  but  the  ini- 
tial difficulty  in  this  was  that  Ike  seemed  to  be  quite 
unperplexed  about  the  whole  matter,  and  entirely  un- 
afraid. Shock's  difficulty  and  distress  were  sensibly 
increased  when  on  taking  Ike  over  the  "  marks  "  of 
the  regenerate  man,  as  he  had  heard  them  so  fully 
and  searchingly  set  forth  in  the  "  Question  Meet- 
ings "  in  the  congregation  of  his  childhood,  he  dis- 
covered that  Ike  was  apparently  ignorant  of  all  the 
deeper  marks,  and  what  was  worse,  seemed  to  be  quite 
undisturbed  by  their  absence. 

While  Shock  was  proceeding  with  his  examination 
he  was  exceedingly  anxious  lest  he  should  reveal  to 
Ike  any  suspicion  as  to  his  unfitness  for  the  step  he 
proposed  to  take.  At  the  same  time,  he  was  filled  with 
anxiety  lest  through  any  unfaithfulness  of  his  on  ac- 
count of  friendship  a  mistake  in  so  solemn  a  matter 
should  be  made.  It  was  only  when  he  observed  that 
Ike  was  beginning  to  grow  uneasy  under  his  somewhat 
searching  examination,  and  even  offered  to  withdraw 
his  name,  that  Shock  decided  to  cast  to  the  winds  all 
his  preconceived  notions  of  what  constituted  fitness 
for  enrollment  in  the  Church  of  £he  living  God,  and 
proceeded  to  ask  Ike  some  plain,  common  sense  ques- 
tions. 

"  You  are  sure  you  want  to  join  this  church,  Ike?  " 

"  That's  what,"  said  Ike. 


THE   REGIONS   BEYOND        359 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  join?  " 

"  Well,  you  gave  us  a  clear  invite,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  But  I  mean,  is  it  for  my  sake?  Because  I  asked 
you?" 

"  Why,  sure.    I  want  to  stand  at  your  back." 

Shock  was  puzzled.  He  tried  another  line  of  ap- 
proach. 

"  Do  you  know,  Ike,  what  you  are  joining?  " 

"  Well,  it's  your  church,  you  said." 

"  Supposing  I  was  not  here  at  all,  would  you  join?  " 

"  Can't  say.    Guess  not." 

Shock  feli  himself  blocked  again. 

"  Ike,  do  you  think  you  are  really  fit  to  do  this  ?  " 

"  Fit  ?  Well,  you  didn't  say  anything  about  bein' 
fit.  You  said  if  anyone  was  willin'  to  take  it  up,  to 
stay  with  the  game,  to  come  on." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  Ike.  I  did  say  that,  and  I 
meant  that,"  said  Shock.  "  But,  Ike,  you  know  that 
the  Apostle  calls  those  who  belong  to  the  church 
<  saints  of  God.'  V 

"  Saints,  eh?  Well,  I  ain't  no  saint,  I  can  tell  you 
that.  Guess  I'm  out  of  this  combination.  No,  sir,  I 
ain't  no  paradox — paragon,  I  mean."  Ike  remem- 
bered the  Kid's  correction. 

His  disappointment  and  perplexity  were  quite  evi- 
dent. After  hearing  Shock's  invitation  from  the  pul- 
pit it  had  seemed  so  plain,  so  simple. 

His  answer  rendered  Shock  desperate. 

"  Look  here,  Ike,  I  am  going  to  be  plain  with  you. 
You  won't  mind  that?  " 

"  Wade  right  in." 


660  THE   PROSPECTOR 

"  Well,  you  sometimes  swear,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  so.  But  I've  pretty  much  quit,  unless 
there's  some  extraordinary  occasion." 

"  Well,  you  drink,  don't  you?  " 

"  Why,  sure.  When  I  can  git  it,  and  git  it  good, 
which  ain't  easy  in  this  country  now." 

"  And  you  sometimes  fight  ?  ?' 

"  Well,"  in  a  tone  almost  of  disappointment,  "there 
ain't  nobody  wantin'  to  experiment  with  me  in  these 
parts  any  longer." 

"  And  you  gamble?  Pla}^  poker  for  money,  I 
mean?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  I  don't  profess  to  be  the  real  thing," 
replied  Ike  modestly,  as  if  disclaiming  an  excellence 
he  could  hardly  hope  to  attain,  "  but  I  ginerally  kin 
stay  some  with  the  game." 

"  Now,  Ike,  listen  to  me.  I'm  going  to  give  it  to 
you  straight." 

Ike  faced  his  minister  squarely,  looking  him  fair 
in  the  eyes. 

"  You  have  been  doing  pretty  much  as  you  like  all 
along.  Now,  if  you  join  the  church  you  are  swearing 
solemnly  to  do  only  what  Jesus  Christ  likes.  You 
give  your  word  you  will  do  only  what  you  think  He 
wants.  You  see?  He  is  to  be  your  Master." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ike.    "  Yes,  that's  so.    That's  right." 

"  In  everything,  remember." 

"  Why,  sure."    That  seemed  quite  simple  to  Ike. 

"  Swearing,  drinking,  fighting,  gambling,"  Shock 
continued. 

Ike  hesitated. 


THE   REGIONS   BEYOND        361 

"  Why,  you  don't  suppose  He  would  mind  a  little 
thing  like  a  smile  with  the  boys  now  and  then,  or  a 
quiet  game  of  poker,  do  you  ?  " 

"  What  I  say,  Ike,  is  this — if  you  thought  He  did 
mind,  would  you  quit?  " 

"  Why,  sure.    You  just  bet !    I  said  so." 

"  Well,  Ike,  supposing  some  one  of  those  chaps 
from  the  Pass,  say  Hickey,  should  walk  up  and  hit 
you  in  the  face,  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"What?  Proceed  to  eddicate  him.  Preject  him 
into  next  week.  That  is,  if  there  was  anything  left." 

Shock  opened  his  Bible  and  read,  "  '  But  I  say  unto 
you,  That  ye  resist  not  evil ;  but  whosoever  shall  smite 
thee  on  thy  right  cheek  turn  to  him  the  other  also.' 
That  is  what  Jesus  Christ  says,  Ike." 

"  He  does,  eh?  Does  it  mean  just  that?  "  Ike  felt 
that  this  was  a  serious  difficulty. 

"  Yes,  it  means  just  that." 

"  Are  all  you  fellers  like  that?  " 

This  wrought  in  Shock  sudden  confusion. 

"  Well,  Ike,  I  am  afraid  not,  but  we  ought  to  be, 
and  we  aim  to  be." 

"  Well,"  said  Ike  slowly,  "  I  guess  I  ain't  made 
that  way." 

Then  Shock  turned  the  leaves  of  his  Bible,  and  read 
the  story  of  the  cruel  bruising  of  the  Son  of  Man,  and 
on  to  the  words,  "  Father,  forgive  them."  Ike  had 
heard  this  story  before,  but  he  had  never  seen  its  bear- 
ing upon  practical  life. 

"  I  say,"  he  said,  with  reverent  admiration  in  his 
voice,  "He  did  it,  didn't  He?  That's  what  I  call 


362  THE   PROSPECTOR 

pretty  high  jumpin',  ain't  it?  Well,"  he  continued, 
"  I  can't  make  no  promises,  but  I  tell  you  what,  111 
aim  at  it.  I  will,  honest.  And  when  you  see  me 
weaken,  you'll  jack  me  up,  won't  you?  You'll  have 
to  stay  with  me,  for  it's  a  mighty  hard  proposition." 

Then  Shock  took  his  hands.  "  Ike,  you  are  a  bet- 
ter man  than  I  am,  but  I  promise  you  I  will  stay  all 
I  can  with  you.  But  there  will  be  days  when  you  will 
be  all  alone  except  that  He  will  be  with  you.  Now 
listen,"  and  Shock,  turning  over  the  leaves  of  his 
Bible,  read,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  always,"  and  a,  little 
further  over  and  read  again,  "  I  can  do  all  things 
through  Christ  that  strengtheneth  me." 

"  That  is  His  solemn  promise,  Ike.  He  has  prom- 
ised to  save  us  from  our  sins.  Do  you  think  you  can 
trust  Him  to  do  that?" 

"  Why,  sure,"  said  Ike,  as  if  nothing  else  was  pos- 
sible. "That's  His  game,  ain't  it?  I  guess  He'll 
stay  with  it.  He  said  so,  didn't  He?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Shock,  with  a  sudden  exaltation  of 
faith,  "  He  said  so,  and  He  will  stay  with  it.  Don't 
you  be  afraid,  Ike.  He  will  see  you  through." 

The  Communion  Roll  when  it  was  completed  num- 
bered some  eighteen  names,  and  of  these  eighteen  none 
were  more  sorely  pressed  to  the  wall  in  God's  battle 
than  Ike,  and  none  more  loyally  than  he  stayed  with 
the  game. 

Owing  to  miscarriage  in  arrangements,  when  the 
Superintendent  arrived  at  the  Fort  he  was  surprised 
to  find  no  one  to  meet  him.  This  had  an  appearance 
of  carelessness  or  mismanagement  that  unfavorably 


THE   REGIONS   BEYOND        363 

impressed  the  Superintendent  as  to  the  business  capac- 
ity of  his  missionary;  He  was  too  experienced  a  trav- 
eller, however,  in  the  remote  and  unformed  districts 
of  the  West,  to  be  at  all  disconcerted  at  almost  any 
misadventure. 

He  inquired  for  Mr.  Macfarren,  and  found  him  in 
Simmons'  store,  redolent  of  bad  tobacco  and  worse 
whiskey,  but  quite  master  of  his  mental  and  physical 
powers.  The  Superintendent  had  business  with  Mr. 
Macfarren,  and  proceeded  forthwith  to  transact  it. 

After  his  first  salutation  he  began,  "  When  I  saw 
you  last,  Mr.  Macfarren,  you  professed  yourself 
keenly  desirous  of  having  services  established  by  our 
church  here." 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  this  sudden  change,  represented  by  your 
letter  to  the  Committee,  and  the  petition,  which  I 
judge  was  promoted  by  yourself?  I  placed  a  man 
here,  with  every  expectation  of  success.  How  can 
you  explain  this  change  in  you  and  in  the  people  you 
represent?  " 

The  Superintendent's  bodily  presence  was  anything 
but  weak,  and  men  who  could  oppose  him  when  at  a 
distance,  when  confronted  with  him  found  it  difficult 
to  support  their  opposition.  Macfarren  found  it  so. 
He  began  in  an  apologetic  manner,  "  Well,  Doctor, 
circumstances  have  changed.  Times  have  been  none 
too  good.  In  fact,  we  are  suffering  from  financial 
stringency  at  present." 

"  Mr.  Macfarren,  be  specific  as  to  your  reasons. 
Your  letter  and  your  petition  were  instrumental  in 


364  THE   PROSPECTOR 

persuading  the  Committee  to  a  complete  change  of 
policy.  This  should  not  be  without  the  very  best  of 
reasons." 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,"  answered  Macfarren, 
"  finances  were " 

"  Tut !  tut !  Mr.  Macfarren.  You  do  not  all  be- 
come poor  in  six  months.  Your  cattle  are  still  here. 
Your  horses  have  suffered  from  no  plague." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Macfarren,  "  the  people  have  be- 
come alienated." 

"  Alienated  ?    From  the  church  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes.  They  seem  to  be  satisfied  with — to 
prefer,  indeed,  the  Anglican  services." 

"  Mr.  Macfarren,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the 
Presbyterians  of  this  country  prefer  any  church  to 
their  own?  I  fear  they  are  a  different  breed  from 
those  I  have  known,  and  unworthy  to  represent  the 
church  of  their  fathers." 

"  Well,  the  truth  is,  Doctor,"  said  Macfarren,  con- 
siderably nettled  at  the  Superintendent's  manner, 
"  the  people  consider  that  they  were  not  well  treated 
in  the  supply  you  sent  them." 

"  Ah !  Now  we  have  it.  Well,  let  us  be  specific 
again.  Is  Mr.  Macgregor  not  a  good  preacher?  " 

"  No,  he  is  not.  He  is  not  such  a  preacher  as  many 
of  us  have  been  accustomed  to." 

"  By  the  way,  Mr.  Macfarren,  what  do  your  people 
pay  toward  this  man's  salary  ?  Five  hundred?  Three 
hundred?  We  only  asked  you  two  hundred,  and  this 
you  found  difficult.  And  yet  you  expect  a  two-thou- 
sand-dollar preacher." 


THE   REGIONS   BEYOND        365 

"  Well,  his  preaching  was  not  his  only  fault,"  said 
Macfarren.  "  He  was  totally  unsuited  to  our  people. 
He  was  a  man  of  no  breeding,  no  manners,  and  in  this 
town  we  need  a  man " 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Macfarren.  You  can  put 
up  with  his  preaching?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Did  he  visit  his  people?  " 

"  Yes,  goodness  knows,  he  did  that  enough. " 

"Was  his  character  good?" 

"Oh,  certainly." 

"  Then  I  understand  you  to  say  that  as  a  preacher 
he  was  passable,  as  a  pastor  and  as  a  man  ail  that 
could  be  desired?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  certainly.  But  he  was — well,  if  you  have 
met  him  you  must  know  what  I  mean.  In  short,  he 
was  uncouth  and  boorish  in  his  manners." 

The  Superintendent  drew  himself  up,  and  his  voice 
began  to  burr  in  a  way  that  his  friends  would  have 
recognized  as  dangerous. 

"  Boorish,  Mr.  Macfarren?  Let  me  tell  you,  sir, 
that  he  is  a  Highland  gentleman,  the  son  of  a  High- 
land gentlewoman,  and  boorishness  is  impossible  to 
him." 

"  Well,  that  may  be  too  strong,  Doctor,  but  you  do 
not  understand  our  society  here.  We  have  a  large 
number  of  people  of  good  family  from  the  old  country 
and  from  the  East,  and  in  order  to  reach  them  we  re- 
quire a  man  who  has  moved  in  good  society." 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  Superintendent,  "Jesus  Christ 
would  not  have  suited  your  society  here,  for  He  was 


366  THE  PROSPECTOR 

a  man  of  very  Humble  birth,  and  moved  in  very  low 
circles."  And  without  further  word  he  turned  from 
Macf  arren  to  greet  Father  Mike,  who  had  entered  the 
store. 

"  Delighted  to  see  you  again,  Bishop,"  said  Father 
Mike.  "  We  are  always  glad  to  see  you  even  though 
you  are  outside  the  pale." 

"  Depends  upon  which  pale  you  mean,  Father 
Mike,"  said  the  Superintendent,  shaking  him  warmly 
by  the  hand. 

"  True,  sir.  And  I,  for  one,  refuse  to  narrow  its 
limits  to  those  of  any  existing  organization." 

"  Your  principles  do  you  credit,  sir,"  said  the 
Superintendent,  giving  his  hand  an  extra  shake. 
"  They  are  truly  Scriptural,  truly  modern,  and  truly 
Western." 

"  But,  Doctor,  I  want  to  ask  you,  if  I  may  without 
impertinence,  why  did  you  do  so  great  an  injury  to 
our  community  as  to  remove  your  missionary  from 
us?" 

"  Ah,  you  consider  that  a  loss,  Father  Mike?  " 

"  Undoubtedly,  sir.  A  great  and  serious  loss.  He 
was  a  high  type  of  a  man.  I  will  quote  as  expressing 
my  opinions,  the  words  of  a  gentleman  whose  judg- 
ment would,  I  suppose,  be  considered  in  this  com- 
munity as  final  on  all  such  matters — General  Brady, 
sir.  I  think  you  know  him.  This  is  what  I  heart? 
him  say.  *  He  is  an  able  preacher  and  a  Christian 
gentleman.' ' 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  Super- 
intendent. "  I  thank  you  for  your  warm  apprecia- 


THE  REGIONS  BEYOND        367 

tion  of  one  whom,  after  short  acquaintance,  I  re- 
garded as  you  do." 

It  was  Father  Mike  who  drove  the  Superintendent 
to  Loon  Lake  next  day,  only  to  find  Shock  away  from 
home. 

"  We  will  inquire  at  the  stopping-place,"  said 
Father  Mike. 

"  Let  us  see,"  said  the  Superintendent,  who  never 
forgot  a  name  or  a  face,  "  does  Carroll  keep  that  still? 
He  did  five  years  ago." 

"  Yes,  and  here  he  is,"  said  Father  Mike.  "  Hello, 
Carroll.  Can  you  tell  me  where  your  minister  is  ?  " 

"  Be  jabers,  it's  a  search  warrant  you'll  need  for 
him,  I'm  thinkin'.  Ask  Perault  there.  Perault,  do 
you  know  where  the  preacher  is  ?  " 

"  Oui.    He's  go  'way  for  prospect,  sure." 

"  Prospecting  ?  "  inquired  Father  Mike. 

"  Oui,"  grinned  Perault,  "  dat's  heem,  one  pros- 
pector. Every  day,  every  day  he's  pass  on  de  trail, 
over  de  hill,  down  de  coulee,  all  overe." 

"  He  does,  eh?  "  said  Father  Mike,  delighted  at  the 
description  of  his  friend.  "What  is  he  after? 
Coal?" 

"Coal!"  echoed  Perault  with  contempt.  "Not 
moche.  He's  go  for  find  de  peep5.  He's  dig  'em  up 
on  de  church,  by  gar." 

"  You  see,  Doctor,"  said  Father  Mike,  "  no  ane  has 
any  chance  here  with  your  fellow.  There's  Carroll, 
now,  and  Perault,  they  are  properly  Roman  Catholic, 
but  now  they  are  good  Presbyterians." 

"  Bon,  for  sure.    Eh,  Carroll,  mon  ga^on?  " 


368  THE   PROSPECTOR 

"  Bedad,  an'  it's  thrue  for  ye,"  said  Carroll. 

It  was  no  small  tribute  to  Shock's  influence  that 
the  ancient  feud  between  these  two  had  been  laid  to 
rest. 

"  Well,  do  you  know  when  he  will  be  home  ?  "  asked 
Father  Mike. 

"  I  go  for  fin'  out,"  said  Perault,  running  into  his 
house,  and  returning  almost  immediately.  "  To-mor- 
row for  sure.  Mebbe  to-night." 

"  Well,  Carroll,  this  is  your  minister's  bishop.  I 
suppose  you  can  look  after  him  till  Mr.  Macgregor 
comes  home." 

"  An'  that  we  can,  sir.  Come  right  in,"  said  Car- 
roll readily.  "  Anny  friend  of  the  Prospector,  as  we 
call  him,  is  welcome  to  all  in  me  house,  an'  that  he  is." 

That  afternoon  and  evening  the  Superintendent 
spent  listening  in  the  pauses  of  his  letter  writing  to 
the  praises  of  the  missionary,  and  to  a  description, 
with  all  possible  elaboration  and  ornament,  of  the 
saving  of  little  Patsey's  lif e,  in  which  even  the  doctor's 
skill  played  a  very  subordinate  part. 

"  An'  there's  Patsey  himself,  the  craythur,"  said 
Mrs.  Carroll,  "  an'  will  he  luk  at  his  father  or  meself 
when  his  riverince  is  by?  An'  he'll  follie  him  out  an' 
bey  ant  on  that  little  pony  of  his." 

The  Superintendent  made  no  remark,  but  he  kept 
quietly  gathering  information.  In  Perault's  house 
it  was  the  same.  Perault,  Josie,  and  Marion  sang  in 
harmony  the  praises  of  Shock. 

Late  at  night  Shock  returned  bringing  the  doctor 
with  him,  both  weary  and  spent  with  the  long,  hard 


THE  REGIONS  BEYOND        369 

day's  work.  From  Perault,  who  was  watching  for 
his  return,  he  heard  of  the  arrival  of  the  Superinten- 
dent. He  was  much  surprised  and  mortified  that  his 
Superintendent  should  have  arrived  in  his  absence, 
and  should  have  found  no  one  to  welcome  him. 

"  Tell  Josie  and  Marion,"  he  said  to  Perault,  "  to 
get  mj  room  ready,"  and,  weary  as  he  was,  he  went 
to  greet  his  chief. 

He  found  him,  as  men  were  accustomed  to  find  him, 
busy  with  his  correspondence.  The  Superintendent 
rose  up  eagerly  to  meet  his  missionary. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir,  how  do  you  do  ?  I  am  very 
glad  to  see  you,"  and  he  gripped  Shock's  hand  with 
a  downward  pull  that  almost  threw  him  off  his  balance. 

"  I  wish  to  assure  you,"  said  the  Superintendent, 
when  the  greetings  were  over,  "  I  wish  to  assure  you," 
and  his  voice  took  its  deepest  tone,  "  of  my  sincere 
sympathy  with  you  in  your  great  loss.  It  was  my 
privilege  to  be  present  at  your  mother's  funeral,  and 
to  say  a  few  words.  You  have  a  great  and  noble 
heritage  in  your  mother's  memory.  She  was  beautiful 
in  her  life,  and  she  was  beautiful  in  death." 

Poor  Shock!  The  unexpected  tender  reference  to 
his  mother,  the  brotherly  touch,  and  the  vision  that 
he  had  from  the  Superintendent's  words  of  his  mother, 
beautiful  in  death,  were  more  than  he  could  bear.  His 
emotions  overwhelmed  him.  He  held  the  Superinten- 
dent's hand  tight  in  his,  struggling  to  subdue  the  sobs 
that  heaved  up  from  his  labouring  breast. 

"  I  suppose,"  continued  the  Superintendent,  giving 
him  time  to  recover  himself,  "  my  last  letter  failed  to 


370  THE   PROSPECTOR 

reach  you.  I  had  expected  to  be  here  two  weeks  later, 
but  I  wrote  changing  my  arrangements  so  as  to  ar- 
rive here  to-day. " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Shock,  "  no  letter  making  any 
change  reached  rne.  I  am  very  sorry  indeed,  not  to 
have  met  you,  and  I  hope  you  were  not  much  incon- 
venienced." 

"  Not  at  all,  sir,  not  at  all.  Indeed,  I  was  very  glad 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  spending  a  little  time  at 
the  Fort,  and  meeting  some  of  your  friends.  By  the 
way,  I  met  a  friend  of  yours  on  my  journey  down, 
who  wished  to  be  remembered  to  you,  Bill  Lee  of 
Spruce  Creek.  You  remember  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  perfectly.  Bill  is  a  fine  fellow,"  said  Shock, 
enthusiasticalty. 

"  Yes,  Bill  has  his  points.  He  has  quit  whiskey  sell- 
ing, he  said,  and  he  wished  that  you  should  know  that. 
He  said  you  would  know  the  reason  why." 

But  Shock  knew  of  no  reason,  and  he  only  replied, 
"  Bill  was  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  am  glad  to  know  of 
the  change  in  him." 

u  Yes,"  continued  the  Superintendent,  "  and  I 
spent  some  time  at  the  Fort  meeting  with  some  of  the 
people,  but  upon  inquiries  I  am  more  puzzled  than 
ever  to  find  a  reason  for  the  withdrawal  of  our  serv- 
ices, and  I  am  still  in  the  dark  about  it." 

Shock's  face  flushed  a  deep  red. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  he  said,  in  a  shamed  and  hesitating 
manner,  "  that  I  was  not  the  right  man  for  the  place. 
I  think  I  rather  failed  at  the  Fort." 

"  I  saw  Macfarren,"  continued  the  Superintendent, 


THE   REGIONS    BEYOND         371 

ignoring  Shock's  remark.  "  He  tried  to  explain,  but 
seemed  to  find  it  difficult."  The  Superintendent 
omitted  to  say  that  he  had  heard  from  Father  Mike 
what  might  have  explained  in  a  measure  Macfarren's 
opposition.  But  Shock  remained  silent. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  Superintendent,  "  now  that 
I  am  here,  what  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  First,"  said  Shock,  "  come  over  to  my  house. 
Come  to  the  manse.  Carroll  will  not  mind*" 

The  Superintendent  put  his  papers  together,  and 
Shock,  shouldering  his  valise  and  coat,  led  the  way 
to  the  manse. 

As  they  entered  the  big  room  the  Superintendent 
paused  to  observe  its  proportions,  noted  the  library 
shelves  full  of  books,  the  organ  in  the  corner,  the 
pictures  adorning  the  walls,  and  without  much  com- 
ment passed  on  upstairs  to  Shock's  own  room.  But 
he  did  not  fail  to  detect  a  note  of  pride  in  Shock's 
voice  as  he  gave  him  welcome. 

"  Come  in,  come  in  and  sit  down.  I  hope  you  will 
be  comfortable.  It  is  rather  rough." 

"  Rough,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  Superintendent.  "  It 
is  palatial.  It  is  truly  magnificent.  I  was  quite  un- 
prepared for  anything  like  this.  Now  tell  me  how 
was  this  accomplished?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Shock,  diffidently,  "  they  all  helped,  and 
here  it  is." 

"That  is  all,  eh?" 

And  that  was  all  Shock  would  tell.  The  rest  of 
the  story,  however,  the  Superintendent  heard  from 
others.  And  so,  throughout  his  whole  visit  the  Super- 


372  THE   PROSPECTOR 

intendent  found  it  impossible  to  get  his  missionary 
to  tell  of  his  own  labours,  and  were  it  not  that  he  car- 
ried an  observant  and  experienced  eye,  and  had  a  skil- 
ful and  subtle  inquisitorial  method,  he  might  have 
come  and  gone  knowing  little  of  the  long,  weary  days 
and  weeks  of  toil  that  lay  behind  the  things  that 
stood  accomplished  in  that  field. 

It  was  the  same  at  the  Pass.  There  stood  the 
hospital  equipped,  almost  free  from  debt,  and  work- 
ing in  harmony  with  the  camps  and  the  miners. 
There,  too,  was  the  club  room  and  the  library. 

"  And  how  was  all  this  brought  about  ?  "  inquired 
the  Superintendent. 

"  Oh,  The  Don  and  the  doctor  took  hold,  and  the 
men  all  helped." 

The  Superintendent  said  nothing,  but  his  eyes  were 
alight  with  a  kindly  smile  as  they  rested  on  his  big 
missionary,  and  he  took  his  arm  in  a  very  close  grip 
as  they  walked  from  shack  to  shack. 

All  this  time  Shock  was  pouring  into  his  Superin- 
tendent's ear  tales  of  the  men  who  lived  in  the  moun- 
tains beyond  the  Pass.  He  spoke  of  their  hardships, 
their  sufferings,  their  temptations,  their  terrible  vices 
and  their  steady  degradation. 

"  And  have  you  visited  them?  "'inquired  the  Super- 
intendent. 

He  had  not  been  able  to  visit  them  as  much  as  he 
would  have  liked,  but  he  had  obtained  information 
from  many  of  the  miners  and  lumbermen  as  to  their 
whereabouts,  and  as  to  the  conditions  under  which 
they  lived  and  wrought.  Shock  was  talking  to  a  man 


THE   REGIONS   BEYOND        373 

of  like  mind.  The  Superintendent's  eye,  like  that  of 
his  missionary,  was  ever  upon  the  horizon,  and  his 
desires  ran  far  ahead  of  his  vision. 

It  was  from  The  Don  that  the  Superintendent 
learned  of  afl  Shock's  work  in  the  past,  and  of  all 
that  had  been  done  to  counteract  the  terrible  evils 
that  were  the  ruin  of  the  lumbermen  and  miners. 
Won  by  the  Superintendent's  sympathy,  The  Don 
unburdened  his  heart  and  told  him  his  own  story  of 
how,  in  his  hour  of  misery  and  despair,  Shock  had 
stood  his  friend  and  saved  him  from  shame  and  ruin. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  The  Don  concluded,  "  more  than  I  shall 
ever  be  able  to  repay  he  has  done  for  me,  and,"  he 
added  humbly,  "  if  I  have  any  hope  for  the  future, 
that  too  I  owe  to  him." 

"  You  have  cause  to  thank  God  for  your  friend, 
sir,"  said  the  Superintendent,  "  and  he  has  no  reason 
to  be  ashamed  of  his  friend.  You  are  doing  noble 
work,  sir,  in  this  place,  noble  work." 

A  visit  to  the.  nearest  lumber  camp  and  mines,  a 
public  meeting  in  the  hospital,  and  the  Superinten- 
dent's work  at  the  Pass  for  the  time  was  done. 

As  he  was  leaving  the  building  The  Don  called  him 
into  his  private  room. 

"  I  wish  to  introduce  you  to  our  nurse,"  he  said. 
"  We  think  a  great  deal  of  her,  and  we  owe  much  to 
her,"  and  he  left  them  together. 

"  I  asked  to  see  you,"  said  Nellie,  "  because  I  want 
your  advice  and  help.  They  need  to  have  more  nurses 
here  than  one,  and  no  one  will  come  while  I  am  here." 

The  Superintendent  gazed  at  her,  trying  to  make 


374  THE   PROSPECTOR 

her  out.  She  tried  to  proceed  with  her  tale  but  failed, 
and,  abandoning  all  reserve,  told  him  with  many  tears 
the  story  of  her  sin  and  shame. 

"  And  now,"  she  said,  "  for  the  sake  of  the  hos- 
pital and  the  doctor  I  must  go  away,  and  I  want  to 
find  a  place  where  I  can  begin  again." 

As  the  Superintendent  heard  her  story  his  eyes 
began  to  glisten  under  his  shaggy  brows. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said  at  length,  "  you  have  had 
a  hard  life,  but  the  Saviour  has  been  good  to  you. 
Come  with  me,  and  I  will  see  what  can  be  done. 
When  can  you  corne  ?  " 

"  When  the  doctor  says,"  she  replied. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Superintendent,  "I  shall 
arrange  it  with  him,"  and  that  was  the  beginning  of 
a  new  life  for  poor  Nellie. 

The  last  meeting  of  the  Superintendent's  visit  was 
at  Loon  Lake,  after  the  Sunday  evening  service.  The 
big  room  was  crowded  with  people  gathered  from  the 
country  far  and  near,  from  the  Fort  to  the  Pass,  to 
hear  the  great  man.  And  he  was  worth  while  hearing 
that  day.  His  imagination  kindled  by  his  recent 
sight  of  the  terrible  struggle  that  men  were  making 
toward  cleanness,  and  toward  heaven  and  God,  and 
the  vision  he  had  had  through  the  eyes  of  his  mis- 
sionary of  the  regions  beyond,  caused  his  speech  to 
glow  and  burn. 

For  an  hour  and  more  they  listened  with  hearts 
attent,  while  he  spoke  to  them  of  their  West,  its  re- 
sources, its  possibilities,  and  laid  upon  them  their 
responsibility  as  those  who  were  determining  its 


THE   REGIONS   BEYOND        375 

future  for  the  multitudes  that  were  to  follow.  His 
appeal  for  men  and  women  to  give  themselves  to  the 
service  of  God  and  of  their  country,  left  them  thrill- 
ing with  visions,  hopes  and  longings. 

In  the  meeting  that  always  followed  the  evening 
service,  the  people  kept  crowding  about  Kim,  refusing 
to  disperse.  Then  the  Superintendent  began  again. 

"  Your  minister  has  been  telling  me  much  about 
the  men  in  the  mountains.  He  seems  to  have  these 
men  upon  his  heart." 

"  Sure,"  said  Ike.  "  He's  a  regular  prospector,  he 
is." 

"  So  I  have  heard,  so  I  have  heard,"  said  the  Super- 
intendent, smiling,  "  and  so  I  should  judge  from  what 
I  have  seen.  Now,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about 
it?" 

They  all  grew  quiet. 

"  You  know  about  these  men,  no  one  else  does.  Are 
you  going  to  let  them  go  to  destruction  without  an 
attempt  to  prevent  it?  " 

The  silence  deepened. 

"  Now,  listen  to  me.  This  will  cost  money.  How 
much  can  you  give  to  send  a  man  to  look  them  up?, 
Two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars?  " 

"  Count  me,"  said  Ike. 

"  Me,  too,"  echoed  Perault.  "  And  me,  and  me," 
on  all  sides.  In  ten  minutes  the  thing  was  arranged. 

"  Now,  there  is  something  else,"  said  the  Superin- 
tendent, and  his  voice  grew  deep  and  solemn.  "  Can 
you  spare  me  your  man  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ! "  said  the  Kid,  promptly. 


376  THE   PROSPECTOR 

"  Not  much-! "  echoed  Perault,  and  in  this  feeling 
all  emphatically  agreed. 

"Do  you  know  where  we  can  get  such  a  man?" 
said  the  Superintendent,  "  such  a  prospector? " 
There  was  no  answer.  "  I  do  not  either.  Now, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Then  Sinclair  spoke  up. 

"  Do  you  mean,  Doctor,  to  remove  Mr.  Macgregor 
from  us?  That  would  seem  to  be  very  hard  upon  this 
field." 

"  Well,  perhaps  not ;  but  can  you  spare  him  for  six 
months,  at  least?  " 

For  some  minutes  no  one  made  reply.  Then  Ike 
spoke. 

"  Well,  I  surmise  we  got  a  good  deal  from  our 
Prospector.  In  fact,  what  we  ain't  got  from  him 
don't  count  much.  And  I  rather  opine  that  we  can't 
be  mean  about  this.  It's  a  little  like  pullin'  hair,  but 
I  reckon  we'd  better  give  him  up." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  the  Superintendent,  who 
had  learned  much  from  Ike  throughout  the  day. 
"  Your  words  are  the  best  commentary  I  have  ever 
heard  upon  a  saying  of  our  Lord's,  that  has  inspired 
men  to  all  unselfish  living,  '  Freely  ye  have  received, 
freely  give.' ' 


XX 

THE    NEW   POLICY 

IT  was  still  early  spring  when  Shock  received  a 
letter  from  Brown,  a  letter  full  of  perplexity 
and  love  and  wrath. 

"  Something  has  gone  wrong,"  he  wrote. 
"  You  have  got  to  come  down  here  and  straighten  it 
out.  I  can  plainly  see  that  Mrs.  Fairbanks  is  at  the 
bottom  of  it,  but  just  what  she  is  at  I  cannot  discover. 
Helen  I  do  not  now  see  much.  The  changes  in  our 
life,  you  see,  have  been  very  great.  I  cannot  bear  to 
go  to  the  house  now.  The  associations  are  too  much 
for  me.  Besides,  Lloyd  seems  to  have  taken  possession 
of  the  whole  family.  The  old  lady  flatters  and  fondles 
him  in  a  manner  that  makes  my  gorge  rise.  It  is 
quite  evident  she  wants  him  for  her  son-in-law,  and 
more  than  evident  that  he  entirely  concurs. 

"  Just  what  Helen  thinks  of  it  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
know,  but  I  cannot  believe  she  can  stand  Lloyd  any 
more  than  I  can.  Up  till  recently  she  was  very  open 
with  me  and  very  loyal  to  you,  but  of  late  a  change 
has  taken  place,  and  what  in  thunder  is  the  matter, 
I  cannot  make  out.  Have  you  done  or  said  anything? 
Have  you  been  guilty  of  any  high-falutin'  nonsense 
of  giving  her  up,  and  that  sort  of  thing?  I  fear  she 
is  avoiding  me  just  now,  and  I  feel  certain  she  has 
been  misled  in  some  way,  so  you  must  come  down. 

377 


378  THE    PROSPECTOR 

You  really  must.  Of  course  you  will  say  you  can- 
not afford  it,  but  this  is  too  serious  a  thing  for  any 
excuse  like  that.  Will  not  your  confounded  High- 
land pride  let  me  loan  you  enough  to  bring  you  down. 
Anyway,  come,  if  you  have  to  walk." 

It  must  be  confessed  that  Brown's  letter  produced 
little  effect  upon  Shock's  mind.  The  bitterness  of 
his  surrender  was  past,  so,  at  least,  he  thought.  The 
happy  dream  he  had  cherished  for  a  year  was  gone 
forever.  He  was  quite  certain  that  it  was  not  Brown's 
but  the  Superintendent's  letter  that  determined  him 
to  accept  appointment  as  a  delegate  to  the  General 
Assembly. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  command  you  in  this,"  the 
Superintendent  wrote.  "  I  wish  I  had.  But  I  need 
you,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  men  you  and  I  know, 
I  wish  you  to  come  down  to  the  Assembly  and  meet 
the  Committee." 

It  was  undoubtedly  the  Superintendent's  letter, 
and  yet  that  sudden  leap  of  his  heart  as  he  read  his 
chief 's '  entreaty  startled  him. 

"  Nonsense !  "  he  said,  shutting  his  jaws  hard  to- 
gether. "  That  is  all  done  with."  And  yet  he  knew 
that  it  would  be  a  joy  almost  too  great  to  endure  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  face  that  still  came  to  him 
night  by  night  in  his  dreams,  to  hear  her  voice,  and 
to  be  near  her. 

So  Shock  came  down,  and  his  coming  brought  very 
different  feelings  to  different  hearts,  to  Brown  the 
very  news  of  it  brought  mad,  wild  delight.  He  rushed 
to  find  Helen. 


THE    NEW    POLICY  379 

"  He  is  coming  down,"  he  cried. 

"  Is  he?  "  replied  Helen,  eagerly.     "  Who?  " 

"  I  have  seen  his  chief,"  continued  Brown,  ignor- 
ing the  question.  "  He  has  had  a  wire.  He'll  be  here 
day  after  to-morrow.  Oh,  let  me  yell !  The  dear  old 
beast!  If  we  could  only  get  him  into  a  jersey,  and 
see  him  bleed." 

"  Don't,  Brownie,"  said  Helen,  using  her  pet  name 
for  her  friend.  They  had  grown  to  be  much  to  each 
other  during  the  experiences  of  the  past  year.  "  It 
suggests  too  much." 

"  I  forgot,"  said  Brown,  penitently.  "  Forgive 
me.  It  will  be  hard  for  you." 

"And  for  him.  Poor  Shock,"  said  Helen.  "Don't 
let  him  go  to  his  home." 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,"  replied  Brown. 

"  And  don't — don't — talk  about  me — much." 

"  Not  if  I  can  help  it,"  replied  Brown  again,  this 
time  with  a  suspicion  of  a  smile. 

"  Now,  Brownie,  I  want  you  to  help  me,"  said 
Helen.  "  It  is  hard  enough.  There  is  nothing  be- 
tween us  now.  He  wishes  it  to  be  so,  and  after  all, 
I  do  too." 

"  You  do  ?    Look  me  in  the  face  and  say  you  do." 

Helen  looked  him  steadily  in  the  face,  and  said, 
quietly,  "  Yes,  I  do.  In  all  sincerity  I  believe  it  is 
far  better  so.  Mother  is  quite  determined,  and  she 
has  only  me.  It  is  the  only  thing  possible,  so  I  want 
you  to  help  me." 

"  And  all  that — that — that  thing  last  spring  was 
a  farce — a  mistake,  I  mean?" 


680  THE    PROSPECTOR 

"  Yes,  a  mistake.  An  awful  mistake.  You  see," 
explained  Helen,  hurriedly,  "  I  was  dreadfully  ex- 
cited, and — well,  you  know,  I  made  a  fool  of  myself. 
And  so,  Brownie,  you  must  help  me." 

"Help  you — how?  To  keep  him  off ?  That  won't 
be  hard.  Tell  him  it  was  all  a  mistake  last  spring 
and  that  you  regret  it,  and  you  won't  need  to  do  any- 
thing else,  if  I  know  him." 

"  I  have — at  least  mother  has  told  him." 

"Your  mother?"  gasped  Brown.  "Then  that 
settles  it.  Good-by.  I  did  not  expect  this  of  you." 

"  Come  back,  Brownie.  You  know  you  are  unkind, 
and  you  must  not  desert  me." 

"  Well,  what  in  heaven's  name  do  you  want  me  to 
do?  Keep  him  off?  " 

"  Oh5 1  do  not  know,"  said  Helen,  breaking  through 
her  calm.  "  I  don't  know.  What  can  I  do?  " 

"Do?"  said  Brown.  "Let  him  tell  you."  He 
had  great  faith  in  Shock's  powers. 

But  the  next  two  days  were  days  of  miserable 
anxiety  to  Brown.  If  Shock  would  only  do  as  he  was 
told  and  act  like  an  ordinary  man,  Brown  had  no 
doubt  of  the  issue. 

"  Oh,  if  he'll  only  play  up,"  he  groaned  to  him- 
self, in  a  moment  of  desperation.  "  If  he'll  only 
play  up  he'll  take  all  that  out  of  her  in  about  three 
minutes." 

The  only  question  was,  would  he  play.  Brown 
could  only  trust  that  in  some  way  kind  Providence 
would  come  to  his  aid.  On  the  afternoon  of  the 
second  day,  the  day  of  Shock's  arrival,  his  hope  was 


THE    NEW    POLICY  381 

realized,  and  he  could  not  but  feel  that  Fortune  had 
sondescended  to  smile  a  little  upon  him. 

Shock's  train  was  late.  The  Superintendent  had 
sought  Brown  out,  and  adjured  him  by  all  things 
sacred  to  produce  his  man  at  the  committee  meeting 
at  the  earliest  possible  moment,  and  this  commission 
Brown  had  conscientiously  fulfilled. 

Toward  evening  he  met  Helen  downtown,  and  was 
escorting  her  homeward  when  they  fell  in  with  Tommy 
Phillips,  a  reporter  for  the  Times.  He  was  evidently 
:n  a  state  of  considerable  excitement. 

"  I  have  just  had  a  great  experience,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  was  down  this  afternoon  at  your  church  com- 
mittee, and  I  tell  you  I  had  a  circus.  There  was  a 
big  chap  there  from  the  wild  and  woolly,  and  he 
made  'em  sit  up.  Why,  you  know  him,  I  guess. 
He's  that  'Varsity  football  chap  the  fellows  used  to 
rave  about." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  said  Brown.  "  Macgregor. 
Shock,  we  used  to  call  him." 

"  Yes.  of  course.  I  remember  I  saw  him  last  year 
at  the  McGill  match." 

"  Well,  what  was  up  ?  "  said  Brown,  scenting  some- 
thing good.  "  Let  us  have  it.  Do  the  reporter  act." 

"  Well,  it's  good  copy,  let  me  tell  you,  but  I  don't 
want  to  allow  my  professional  zeal  to  obliterate  my 
sense  of  the  decencies  of  polite  society." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Brown,  "  I  want  to  hear.  You 
know,  I  played  quarter  behind  him  for  three  years, 
and  Miss  Fairbanks  is  interested,  I  know." 

"  You  did?     Well,  if  he  bucked  up  as  he  did  this 


382  THE    PROSPECTOR 

afternoon,  you  must  have  had  good  hunting.  Well, 
then,  when  that  committee  met  you  never  saw  a  more 
solemn-looking  bunch  in  your  life.  You  would  think 
they  had  all  lost  their  mothers-in-law.  And  when  they 
broke  up  they  didn't  know  but  they  were  standing  on 
their  heads." 

"  What  was  the  matter?  " 

"  Oh,  there  was  a  big  deficit  on,  and  they  had  to 
go  up  to  your  big  council — conference — what  do 
you  call  it  in  your  pagan  outfit?  Assembly?  Yess 
that's  it — and  take  their  medicine.  Twenty  thousand 
dollars  of  a  debt.  Well,  sir,  on  the  back  of  all  that 
didn't  their  Grand  Mogul — archbishop — you  know, 
from  the  West — no,  not  Macgregor — their  chief 
pusher.  Superintendent?  Yes — come  in  and  put  an 
ice  pack  on  them  in  the  shape  of  a  new  scheme  for 
exploration  and  extension  in  the  Kootenay  country, 
the  Lord  knows  where,  some  place  out  of  sight.  Well, 
you  ought  to  have  heard  him.  He  burned  red  fire, 
you  bet.  Pardon  my  broken  English,  Miss  Fair- 
banks." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Helen,  "  I  like  it,"  and  Brown  gave 
himself  a  little  hug. 

"  I  am  glad  you  do,"  continued  Tommy,  "  for  it  is 
bad  enough  to  write  copy  without  having  to  speak  it. 
Well,  the  war  began,  some  in  favour  of  the  scheme, 
some  against,  but  all  hopeless  in  view  of  the  present 
state  of  finances.  Better  wait  a  little,  and  that  sort 
of  talk.  Then,  let's  see  what  happened.  Oh,  yes. 
The  question  of  the  man  came  up.  Who  was  the 
man?  The  Superintendent  was  ready  for  'em.  It 


THE    NEW    POLICY  383 

was  Macgregor  of  some  place.  Frog  Lake?  No, 
Loon  Lake.  Then  the  opposition  thought  they  had 
him  with  a  half-nelson.  Old  Dr.  Macfarren  jumped 
on  to  the  chief  with  both  feet.  His  man  was  no  good, 
a  flat  failure  in  his  field,  no  tact.  Beg  your  pardon, 
Miss  Fairbanks.  What  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  never  mind,"  said  Helen.    "  Go  on." 

"  He  appealed  for  corroboration  to  his  friend,  the 
chap  up  at  Park  Church,  you  know,  that  sleek,  kid- 
gloved  fellow."  ' 

"Burns?"  asked  Brown,  innocently,  delighted  in 
the  reporter's  description  of  Lloyd  and  desiring  more 
of  it. 

"  No.  You  know  that  orator  chap,  liquid  eyes, 
mellifluous  voice,  and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

"  Oh,  Lloyd." 

"  Yes.  Well,  he  took  a  whirl  and  backed  up 
Macfarren.  Evidently  didn't  think  much  of  the 
Superintendent's  choice.  Remarked  about  his  being 
a  Highlander,  .a  man  of  visions  and  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"  What  else  did  he  say?  "  inquired  Brown,  who  was 
in  a  particularly  happy  mood. 

"  Oh,  a  lot  of  stuff,  in  his  most  lordly,  patronizing 
tone.  Macgregor  was  a  very  good,  earnest  fellow, 
but  he  should  judge  him  to  be  lacking  in  tact  or 
adaptability,  fine  sensibilities,  and  that  sort  of  rot. 
But  never  mind.  Didn't  he  catch  it !  Oh,  no.  My 
Sally  Ann!  Boiling  lard  and  blue  vitriol,  and  all 
in  the  chief's  most  sweet-scented  lavender  style, though 
all  the  time  I  could  see  the  danger  lights  burning 


384  THE    PROSPECTOR 

through  his  port-holes.  I  tell  you  I've  had  my  di- 
minished moments,  but  I  don't  think  I  was  ever  re- 
duced to  such  a  shade  as  the  Park  Church  chap  when 
the  Superintendent  was  through  with  him.  Serve  him 
right,  too." 

"What  did  the  Superintendent  say?"  continued 
Brown,  delighted  to  find  somebody  who  would  express 
his  own  sentiments  with  more  force  and  fulness  than 
he  could  command. 

"Say!  Well,  I  wish  I  could  tell  you.  <  Mr.  Lloyd 
says  he  is  a  Highlander.  Yes,  he  is,  thank  God.  So 
am  I.  He  is  a  man  of  visions.  Yes,  he  has  vision 
beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  congregation  and  of  his 
own  native  cross-roads,  vision  for  what  lies  beyond 
the  horizon,  vision  for  those  men  in  the  mountains  who 
are  going  to  the  devil.'  A  quotation,  Miss  Fairbanks, 
I  assure  you.  '  These  miners  and  lumbermen,  for- 
gotten by  all  but  their  mothers,  and  God.'  Say,  it 
was  great.  If  I  could  reproduce  it  there  would  be 
a  European  trip  in  it.  Then  he  turned  on  Dr.  Mac- 
farren.  It  seems  that  Macgregor  somehow  had  to 
quit  some  place  in  the  West  on  the  plea  that  he  was 
not  adaptable,  and  that  sort  of  thing.  *  Dr.  Mac- 
farren  says  he  was  a  failure,'  went  on  the  old  chief, 
using  at  least  five  r's,  *  Mr.  Lloyd  says  he  is  not 
adaptable,  he  is  lacking  in  fine  sensibilities.  It  is  true 
God  did  not  make  him  with  sleek  hair' — which,  by 
Jove,  was  true  enough — '  and  dainty  fingers.  And 
a  good  thing  it  was,  else  our  church  at  Loon  Lake, 
built  by  his  own  hands,  the  logs  cut,  shaped  and  set 
in  place,  sir,  by  his  own  hands,  would  never  have 


THE    NEW    POLICY  385 

existed.  He  was  a  failure  at  the  Fort,  we  are  told. 
Why?  I  made  inquiries  concerning  that.  I  was 
told  by  a  gentleman  who  calls  himself  a  Presbyterian 
— I  need  not  mention  his  name — that  he  was  not  suit- 
able to  the  peculiarly  select  and  high-toned  society  of 
that  place.  No,  sir,  our  missionary  could  not  bow 
and  scrape,  he  was  a  failure  at  tennis,  he  did  not  shine 
at  card  parties,'  and  here  you  could  smell  things 
sizzling.  '  He  could  not  smile  upon  lust.  No,  thank 
God ! '  and  the  old  chap's  voice  began  to  quiver  and 
shake.  '  In  all  this  he  was  a  failure,  and  would  to 
God  we  had  more  of  the  same  kind ! '  '  Amen,' 
'Thank  God,'  'That's  true,'  the  men  around  the 
table  cried.  I  thought  I  had  struck  a  Methodist  re- 
vival meeting." 

"What  else  did  he  say?"  said  Brown,  who  could 
hardly  contain  himself  for  sheer  delight. 

"  Well,  he  went  on  then  to  yarn  about  Macgregor's 
work — how  a  church  and  club  house  had  been  built 
in  one  place,  and  a  hospital  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
in  another,  and  then  he  told  us  stories  of  the  differ- 
ent chaps  who  had  been  apparently  snatched  from 
the  mouth  of  hell  by  Macgregor,  and  were  ready  to 
lie  down  and  let  him  walk  over  them.  It  was  great. 
There  was  an  Irishman  and  a  Frenchman,  I  remem- 
ber, both  Roman  Catholics,  but  both  ready  to  swallow 
the  Confession  of  Faith  if  the  Prospector  ordered 
them.  Yes,  that  was  another  point.  Macgregor,  it 
seems,  was  a  regular  fiend  for  hunt-ing  up  fellows  and 
rooting  them  out  to  church,  and  so  they  dubbed  him 
«  the  Prospector.'  The  old  chief  stuck  that  in,  I  tell 


386  THE    PROSPECTOR 

you.  Then  there  was  a  doctor  and,  oh,  a  lot  of  chaps, 
— a  cowboy  fellow  named  Ike,  who  was  particularly 
good  copy  if  one  could  reproduce  him.  And  then — " 
here  Tommy  hesitated — "well,  it's  worth  while  tell- 
ing. There  was  a  girl  who  had  gone  wrong,  and  had 
been  brought  back.  To  hear  the  chief  tell  that  yarn 
was  pretty  fine.  I  don't  turn  the  waterworks  on  with- 
out considerable  pressure,  but  I  tell  you  my  tanks 
came  pretty  near  overflowing  when  he  talked  about 
that  poor  girl.  And  then,  at  the  most  dramatic  mo- 
ment— that  old  chap  knows  his  business — he  brought 
on  Macgregor,  announcing  him  as  6  the  Prospector 
of  Frog  Lake,  no,  Loon  Lake.'  Well,  he  was  not 
much  to  look  at.  His  hair  was  not  slick,  and  his 
beard  looked  a  little  like  a  paint  brush,  his  pants  ran 
up  on  his  boots,  and  bagged  at  the  knees." 

"  He  had  just  come  off  the  train,"  hastily  inter- 
posed Brown,  "  He  hadn't  a  moment  to  dress  him- 
self." 

"  Well,  as  I  say,  he  wasn't  pretty  to  look  at,  and 
they  gave  him  a  kind  of  frosty  reception,  too." 

"  Well,  what  happened?  "  inquired  Brown,  anxious 
to  get  over  this  part  of  the  description. 

"  Well,  they  began  firing  questions  at  him  hot  and 
fast.  He  was  a  little  rattled  for  a  while,  but  after 
a  bit  he  got  into  his  stride,  put  down  his  map,  laid 
out  his  country  and  began  pouring  in  his  fa-cts,  till 
when  they  let  him  out  they  looked  for  all  the  world 
like  a  lot  of  men  who  had  been  struck  by  a  whirlwind 
and  were  trying  to  get  back  their  breath  and  other 
belongings." 


THE    NEW    POLICY  387 

"  Well,  what  did  they  do  then?  " 

"  Oh,  the  thing  passed,  I  guess.  I  left  'em  and 
went  after  the  man  from  the  West.  I  thought  I  had 
struck  oil.  I  had  visions  too." 

"  Well,  did  you  get  him?  " 

"  I  did,  but  there  was  not  any  oil.  It  was  rock, 
hard,  cold  Scotch  granite.  I'm  something  of  a  borer, 
but  I  tell  you  what,  he  turned  my  edge.  It  was  no 
use.  He  wouldn't  talk." 

"  Good  by.  Come  around  and  see  your  man  at  my 
rooms,"  said  Brown  heartily.  "  I'll  pump  him  for 
you,  and  you  can  catch  the  oil." 

"  You  will,  eh?    All  right,  set  a  mug  for  me." 

"  Great  boy,  that  Tommy,"  said  Brown,  who  was 
smitten  with  a  sudden  enthusiastic  admiration  for 
the  reporter.  "  Clever  chap.  He'll  make  his  mark 
yet." 

Helen  walked  for  some  distance  in  silence. 

"  Is — is  he — is  Mr.  Macgregor  with  you?  "  she 
inquired  at  length. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Macgregor  is  with  me,"  mimicked 
Brown.  "  Will  you  send  him  a  card  ?  " 

"  Now,  Brownie,  stop,"  said  Helen  in  distress. 
"  He  has  not  been  home  yet,  has  he?  " 

"No.    Why?" 

"  Could  you  keep  him  away  till  about  eleven  to- 
morrow? " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  I  might.  He  has  got  to  get  some 
clothes  and  get  some  of  the  wool  off  him.  But  why 
do  you  ask?  " 

"  Well,  I  thought  I  would  just  run  in  and  dust,  and 


388  THE    PROSPECTOR 

put  some  flowers  up,  and,  you  know,  make  it  a  little 
more  homelike." 

"  Helen,  you're  a  brick.  I  had  decided  to  drop 
you  because  I  didn't  love  you,  but  I  am  changing  my 
mind." 

"  Well,  do  not  let  him  go  before  eleven.  Every- 
thing will  be  right  by  that  time." 

"  Good ! "  said  Brown,  with  an  ebullition  of  rap- 
ture, which  he  immediately  suppressed  as  Helen's 
eyes  were  turned  inquiringly  upon  him.  "  You  see," 
he  explained  hurriedly,  "  he  has  been  in  the  West  and 
will  need  to  get  a  lot  of  things,  and  that  will  give 
you  plenty  of  time.  There's  my  car.  Good-by.  We 
have  had  a  happy  afternoon,  eh?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  very  happy,  thank  you,"  said  Helen,  but 
^he  could  not  quite  suppress  a  little  sigh. 

"  Well,  good-by,"  said  Brown,  and  he  went  off 
jubilant  to  his  car. 

He  sat  down  in  a  corner,  and  thought  hard  till  he 
came  to  his  street.  "  If  he'll  only  play  up  we'll  win, 
sure  thing.  But  will  he,  confound  him,  will  he? 
Well,  the  kick-off  will  be  to-morrow." 

He  found  Shock  waiting  in  his  rooms,  with  a  face 
»jo  grave  and  so  sad  that  Brown's  heart  grew  sore 
for  him. 

"  Come  on,  old  chap,  we'll  go  to  grub.  But  first 
I  am  going  to  groom  you  a  bit.  We'll  take  a  foot  or 
two  off  your  hair  since  the  football  season  is  over; 
and  I  think,"  examining  him  critically,  "  we  can 
spare  that  beard,  unless  you  are  very  fond  of  it." 

Shock  protested  that  he  had  no  particular  love  for 


THE   NEW   POLICY  389 

his  beard;  it  was  better  for  the  cold  weather,  and  it 
was  not  always  convenient  for  him  to  shave. 

When  the  barber  had  finished  with  Shock,  Brown 
regarded  him  with  admiration. 

"  You  are  all  right,  old  chap.  I  say,  you've  got 
thin,  haven't  you?  " 

"  No,  I  am  pretty  much  in  my  playing  form." 

"  Well,  there  is  something  different."  And  there 
was.  The  boyish  lines  of  his  face  had  given  place 
to  those  that  come  to  men  with  the  cares  and  griefs 
and  responsibilities  of  life.  And  as  Brown  looked 
over  Shock's  hard,  lean  face,  he  said  again,  with  em- 
phasis, "  You'U  do." 

After  dinner  Shock  wandered  about  the  rooms  un- 
easily for  a  time,  and  finally  said,  "  I  say,  Brown,  I 
would  like  to  go  up  home,  if  you  don't  mind."  They 
had  not  yet  spoken  of  what  each  knew  was  uppermost 
in  the  other's  mind. 

"All  right,  Shock.  But  wouldn't  it  be  better  in 
the  morning?  " 

"  I  want  to  go  to-night,"  said  Shock. 

"  Well,  if  you  are  bound  to,  we  will  go  up  in  an 
hour  or  two.  There's  a  lot  of  things  I  want  to  talk 
about,  and  some  things  to  arrange,"  replied  Brown, 
hoping  that  in  the  meantime  something  might  turn 
up  to  postpone  the  visit  till  the  morning. 

For  a  second  time  that  day  Fortune  smiled  upon 
Brown,  for  hardly  had  they  settled  down  for  a  talk 
when  the  Superintendent  appeared. 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  in,"  he  said,  giving  Shock's 
hand  a  vigorous  shake.  "  I  came  to  offer  you  my 


390  THE    PROSPECTOR 

congratulations  upon  your  appearance  this  afternoon, 
and  also  to  tell  you  that  the  Committee  have  ap- 
pointed you  to  address  the  Assembly  on  Home  Mis- 
sion night." 

"  Hooray !  "  cried  Brown.  "  Your  Committee, 
Doctor,  is  composed  of  men  who  evidently  know  a 
good  thing  when  they  see  it." 

"  Sometimes,  Mr.  Brown,  sometimes,"  said  the 
Superintendent,  shrewdly. 

But  Shock  refused  utterly  and  absolutely. 

"I  am  no  speaker,"  he  said.  "I  am  a  failure  as 
a  speaker." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Macgregor,  I  will  not  take  your  re- 
fusal to-night.  It  is  the  Committee's  request,  and 
you  ought  to  hesitate  before  refusing  it." 

"A  man  can  do  no  more  than  his  best,"  said  Shock, 
"  and  I  know  I  cannot  speak." 

"  Well,  think  it  over,"  said  the  Superintendent, 
preparing  to  go. 

"  Oh,  sit  down,  sit  down,"  cried  Brown.  "  You 
must  want  to  have  a  talk  with  Shock  here,  and  I  want 
to  hear  all  about  this  afternoon." 

"  Well,"  said  the  Superintendent,  seating  himself, 
"  it  is  not  often  I  have  a  chance  to  talk  with  a  Pros- 
pector, so  I  will  accept  your  invitation."  And  by  the 
time  the  talk  was  done  it  was  too  late  for  Shock  to 
think  of  visiting  his  home,  and  Brown  went  asleep 
with  the  happy  expectation  of  what  he  called  the 
"  kick-off  "  next  day. 


XXI 

THE    WAITING    GAME 

BROWN  was  early  astir.  He  knew  that  he  could 
not  keep  Shock  so  fully  employed  as  to  pre- 
vent his  going  home  long  before  ten  o'clock, 
and  it  was  part  of  his  plan  that  Shock's  first 
meeting  with  Helen  should  take  place  in  his  own 
mother's  house. 

"  The  first  thing  we  must  do,"  he  announced,  "  is 
to  see  a  tailor.  If  you  are  going  to  address  the 
General  Assembly  you  have  got  to  get  proper  togs. 
And  anyway,  you  may  as  well  get  a  suit  before 
you  go  West  again.  I  know  a  splendid  tailor — cheap, 
too." 

"  Well,  he  will  need  to  be  cheap,"  said  Shock,  "  for 
I  cannot  afford  much  for  clothes." 

"  Well,  I  will  see  about  that,"  said  Brown.  So  he 
did,  for  after  some  private  conversation  with  the 
tailor,  the  prices  quoted  to  Shock  were  quite  within 
even  his  small  means. 

It  was  half-past  nine  before  they  reached  Shock's 
home.  Brown  took  the  key  out  of  his  pocket,  opened 
the  door,  and  allowed  Shock  to  enter,  waiting  outside 
for  a  few  moments. 

When  he  followed  Shock  in  he  found  him  still  stand- 
ing in  the  centre  of  the  little  room,  looking  about 

391 


S92  THE   PROSPECTOR 

upon  the  familiar  surroundings,  the  articles  of  fur- 
niture, the  pictures  on  the  wall,  his  mother's  chair 
beside  the  table,  with  her  Bible  and  glasses  at 
hand. 

As  Brown  came  in  Shock  turned  to  him  and  said, 
"  Is  this  some  more  of  your  kindness,  Brown?  Have 
you  taken  this  care  of  everything  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Brown,  "  that  is  not  my  work.  Every 
week  since  the  house  was  closed  Helen  has  come  over 
and  kept  things  right.'* 

Without  any  reply  Shock  passed  into  his  mother's 
room,  leaving  Brown  alone. 

When  half  an  hour  had  passed,  Brown,  glancing 
out  of  the  window,  saw  Helen  approaching. 

"  Thank  goodness !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  here  she  is  at 
last." 

He  opened  the  door  for  her. 

"  Oh,  good  morning,"  she  exclaimed  in  surprise. 
"  I  am  sure  this  is  very  kind  of  you." 

"  Yes,  I  thought  I  would  help,"  said  Brown  in  a 
loud  voice.  "  You  see,  Shock  was  anxious  to  come, 
and  I  thought  I  would  come  up  with  him.  He  is  in 
the  next  room.  He  will  be  out  in  a  minute.  We  were 
coming  up  last  night,  but  could  not  get  away.  The 
Superintendent  dropped  in,  and  we  talked  till  it  was 
too  late."  Brown  kept  the  stream  of  his  remarks 
flowing  as  if  he  feared  a  pause. 

Helen  laid  the  bunch  of  flowers  she  was  carrying  in 
her  hand  upon  the  table. 

"  Oh,  Brown,"  she  exclaimed,  "  how  could  you ! 
This  is  very  unkind."  She  turned  to  go. 


THE   WAITING   GAME 

"  Hold  on,"  said  Brown  in  a  loud  voice.  "  Shock 
will  be  here  in  a  minute.  He'll  be  sorry  to  miss  you, 
I  am  sure." 

For  a  moment  Helen  stood  irresolute,  when  the  door 
opened  and  Shock,  pale,  but  quiet  and  self-controlled, 
appeared.  He  had  just  been  face  to  face  for  the 
first  time  with  his  great  grief.  The  thought  that 
filled  his  mind,  overwhelming  all  others,  was  that  his 
mother  had  passed  forever  beyond  the  touch  of  his 
hand  and  the  sound  of  his  voice.  Never  till  that 
moment  had  he  taken  in  the  full  meaning  of  the  change 
that  had  come  to  his  life. 

During  the  minutes  he  had  spent  in  his  mother's 
room  he  had  allowed  his  mind  to  go  back  over  the 
long  years  so  full  of  fond  memory,  and  then  he  had 
faced  the  future.  Alone  henceforth  he  must  go  down 
the  long  trail.  By  his  mother's  bed  he  had  knelt, 
and  had  consecrated  himself  again  to  the  life  she  had 
taught  him  to  regard  as  worthy,  and  with  the  resolve 
in  his  heart  to  seek  to  be  the  man  she  would  desire 
him  to  be  and  had  expected  him  to  be,  he  rose  from  his 
knees. 

When  he  opened  the  door  the  dignity  of  his  great 
grief  and  of  a  lofty  purpose  was  upon  him,  and  he 
greeted  Helen  unembarrassed  and  with  a  serene  con- 
sciousness of  self-mastery. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Miss  Fairbanks,"  he  said, 
taking  her  hand.  "  I  am  glad  that  we  meet  here,  for 
it  was  here,  in  this  house,  that  you  gave  such  loving 
and  tender  care  to  my  dear  mother.  However  long  I 
may  live,  whatever  may  come  to  me,  I  shall  never  for- 


394  THE   PROSPECTOR 

get  what  you  did  for  her  through  all  the  year,  and  at 
the  last." 

His  quiet  dignity  restored  to  Helen  her  self-posses- 
sion. 

"  I  did  all  I  could  for  her.  I  was  glad  to  do  it,  be- 
cause I  loved  her.  But  she  did  more  for  me  than  ever 
I  could  have  done  for  her.  Her  last  illness  was  very 
brief,  and  her  death  was  full  of  peace." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Shock,  placing  a  chair  for  her. 
"  I  want  to  know  all." 

With  gentle,  sweet  sympathy  the  story  was  told  in 
all  its  beautiful  details,  till  the  very  end.  Instinc- 
tively Helen  seemed  to  know  the  points  that  Shock 
would  desire  to  hear,  and  he  listened  to  her  with  his 
heart  shining  through  his  eyes. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,"  he  said.  "  Never  can  I 
thank  you  enough  for  all  that  you  have  done.  And 
you,  too,  have  had  your  great  sorrow.  Brown  told 
me  about  it  all." 

At  this  Brown  rose  hastily,  and  looking  out  of  the 
window,  exclaimed,  "  I  say,  there's  Boyle.  Wait  for 
me." 

"  Yes,"  said  Helen,  when  Brown  had  gone,  "  it  was 
a  terrible  grief,  and  mother  has  never  recovered  from 
it,  nor  will  she.  Betty  was  the  life  of  our  house.  She 
was  so  bright." 

"  Oh,  bright,  indeed.  How  well  I  remember  her 
brightness  that  night  in  your  home." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Helen.  "  And  Mr.  Bal- 
four,"  she  continued,  "  The  Don.  He  has  been  with 
you?  " 


THE    WAITING   GAME  395 

"  Yes,  indeed,  poor  chap.  And  nobly  he  has  done," 
and  Shock  told  of  The  Don  and  of  his  work  in  the 
Pass. 

"  How  good  you  have  been,"  exclaimed  Helen,  "  and 
how  much  you  have  done.  I  am  so  thankful,  and  so 
proud.  We  are  all  so  proud  of  you." 

"  No,"  said  Shock  gravely,  "  that  is  not  the  word, 
Miss  Fairbanks.  There  is  no  room  for  pride." 

"  WeU,  we  think  so,"  replied  Helen.  "  You  will 
come  to  see  us?  Mother  will  be  so  glad." 

Helen  was  wondering  at  her  own  calmness.  She 
could  hardly  make  herself  believe  that  she  was  talk- 
ing to  Shock,  and  so  quietly,  in  this  room  where  so 
short  a  time  ago  he  had  held  her  in  his  arms. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Shock.  "  It  may  be  as 
well  not  to — not  to  see  much — to  see  you." 

Shock  became  unexpectedly  conscious  of  their 
previous  relations.  The  memory  of  that  scene  in 
which  they  had  been  the  chief  actors  came  vividly 
before  him.  For  weeks  he  had  dreaded  this  interview, 
and  now  it  was  almost  over.  He  felt  like  a  man  who, 
in  the  hour  of  victory,  is  unexpectedly  threatened  with 
defeat.  Well,  sooner  or  later  he  must  speak  his  mind 
plainly;  there  would  never  be  a  better  chance  than 
now,  and  though  he  wished  he  could  get  back  that 
perfect  self-mastery  of  the  past  few  minutes,  he  re- 
solved to  go  through  with  it  now.  He  took  hold  of 
himself  with  a  stern  grip. 

Helen  saw  it  in  his  face.  A  great  fear  seized  her. 
She  started  up. 

"  Oh,  I  must  run !  "  she  exclaimed.     "  You  will  be 


396  THE   PROSPECTOR 

sure  to  come  and  see  us,  Mr.  Macgregor.  Indeed,  you 
must  come." 

Her  manner  was  light,  almost  frivolous.  Shock 
felt  the  change  instinctively,  rea'd  her  fear,  and  de- 
cided that  the  moment  for  speech  had  passed. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said,  looking  steadily  into  her  eyes. 
"  Good-by.  God  bless  you  for  your  kindness  to — to  us 
both." 

The  little  catch  in  his  voice  reached  the  girl's  heart, 
and  the  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes. 

"  Good-by,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  Good-by,"  and 
was  gone. 

A  little  way  down  the  street  she  met  Brown. 

"Well?" 

"  Well,  it  is  all  over.  I  am  thankful,  too.  Yes,  so 
thankful." 

"  Well,  I'U  be—"  Brown  left  his  sentence  unfin- 
ished and  turned  away  from  her  impatiently. 

He  found  Shock  still  sitting  at  the  table,  unspeak- 
able misery  showing  in  his  eyes. 

"  Well,  old  chap,"  Brown  said  kindly,  putting  his 
hand  upon  his  friend's  shoulder. 

"  That  is  over,  thank  God !  "  said  Shock.  "  I  was 
afraid  of  it,  but  it  is  over  now." 

"  It  is,  eh?  "  said  Brown  crossly.  "  Well,  let's  go. 
You're  two  of  a  kind.  Come  on.  You'll  have  to  get 
at  your  speech  now." 

66  My  speech?  "  said  Shock,  rising  wearily.  "  No 
speech  for  me." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Shock,"  said  Brown,  with  a  touch 
of  impatience,  "  you  think  too  much  of  yourself." 


THE   WAITING   GAME  397 

"Do  I,  Brown?  Well,  perhaps  so,"  said  Shock, 
humbly. 

"  Oh,  confound  your  old  carcass ! "  cried  Brown, 
throwing  his  arm  round  Shock's  neck.  "  You'll  be  my 
death  yet.  At  the  same  time,  you  ought  to  speak,  and 
I  believe  you  will.  If  I  know  your  conscience  it  won't 
let  you  rest." 

It  turned  out  that  Brown  was  right,  for  when  the 
Superintendent  wrote  a  note  to  Shock  asking  him 
formally  on  behalf  of  the  Committee  to  address  the 
Assembly  on  Home  Mission  night,  the  last  sentence  in 
his  letter  determined  Shock  to  accept. 

"  I  know  what  this  will  cost  you,"  the  Superinten- 
dent wrote,  "  but  the  cause  is  not  yours  nor  mine.  It 
is  His.  And  for  His  sake  I  believe  you  will  do  this." 

"  I  knew  you  would,  old  chap,"  said  Brown  exult- 
antly. "  If  a  fellow  could  get  the  combination  of 
your  conscience  he  could  do  what  he  liked  with  you." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  if  they  wish  me  to  make  an  ex- 
hibition of  myself  I  should  not  refuse,  and  after  all, 
what  matter  how  I  speak?  I  will  fail,  I  know,  but  I 
will  do  my  best." 

"  Never  a  fail,"  cried  Brown.  "  Don't  preach  at 
them.  Tell  them  yarns.  That's  what  your  chief  does. 
Now  you  hear  me." 

This  proved  to  be  good  advice,  for  when  the  chair- 
man introduced  Shock  as  the  Prospector  from  Loon 
Lake,  Shock  simply  began,  as  Brown  said,  to  "  yarn." 

"  That  is  what  Perault  and  Ike  called  me,"  were 
his  first  words,  and  from  that  moment  till  the  close  of 
his  speech  he  had  his  audience  leaning  forward  and 


THE   PROSPECTOR 

listening  with  ears  and  eyes  and  heart.  He  made  no 
attempt  at  fine  speaking,  but  simply  told  them  of  his 
friends  in  the  West,  of  the  men  he  had  come  to  love  as 
brothers,  and  who  had  come  to  love  him. 

As  they  came  down  the  steps  of  the  Park  Church, 
where  the  meeting  was  held,  Brown  could  hardly  keep 
pace  with  Helen  as  she  danced  along  beside  him. 

"  Oh,  wasn't  he  splendid !  "  she  cried,  "  wasn't  he 
splendid!" 

"  Splendid?  "  said  Brown.  "  There's  not  a  word 
big  enough  left." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  happy,"  sang  Helen. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  with  you?  "  cried  Brown. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  nothing,"  and  she  bubbled  over  with 
happy  laughter  until  Brown  grew  gloomy  and  cross. 
But  Helen  deigned  him  no  further  explanation  of  her 
overflowing  joy,  and  left  him,  still  sullen  and  some- 
what indignant,  at  her  door. 

Her  radiant  face  caught  her  mother's  eye  as  she 
entered  the  room. 

"  Well,  my  child,  you  are  looking  very  happy.  I 
have  not  seen  you  look  so  bright  for  months.  You 
are  very  beautiful,  my  daughter,"  said  her  mother, 
putting  her  arm  around  her  daughter  as  Helen  stooped 
to  kiss  her.  * 

"  Oh,  mother,"  cried  Helen,  "  I  am  very  happy." 

"  Well,  darling,  it  makes  me  happy  to  hear  you  say 
so.  Has — has  Mr.  Lloyd  spoken  to  you  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Lloyd?  "  -Helen  laughed  gleefully.  "  No, 
mother,  he  knows  better  than  that.  Oh,  mother. 
Shock  loves  me." 


THE    WAITING    GAME 

"  What !  Has  he  dared  to  speak — after  promis- 
ing  ?  " 

"  No,  mother,  he  has  not  spoken,  not  with  his  lips. 
But  I  know  it,  I  know  it,  and  oh,  I  am  so  glad." 

"  What  of  his  plain  declaration  to  me  that  he  had 
given  you  up?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  care,  mother.  He  has  not  changed," 
cried  the  happy  girl.  "  He  loves  me  just  the  same  as 
ever." 

"  And  what  of  the  girl  Mr.  Ambherg  told  us  of?  " 

"No,  mother,  there  is  no  other  girl,"  cried  Helen. 
* '  I  don't  care  who  told  you. ' ' 

"Helen,  I  am  ashamed  of  you,"  exclaimed  her 
mother,  angrily. 

"  Dear  mother,"  said  Helen,  falling  on  her  knees 
and  putting  her  arms  about  her  mother,  "  I  cannot 
help  loving  him,  and  I  cannot  help  being  happy.  Oh, 
mother,  he  is  splendid.  You  ought  to  have  heard  him 
to-night,  and  you  ought  to  have  seen  the  people. 
Why,  the  ministers  almost  hugged  him.  And  oh, 
mother,  mother,  as  he  came  down  and  passed  my  seat, 
he  turned  and  looked  at  me.  He  did  not  expect  to  see 
me,  and  he  was  off  his  guard,  and  then  I  knew,  oh,  I 
knew.  He  is  just  the  same.  Oh,  mother,  be  happy 
with  me." 

Her  mother  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,"  she  sobbed,  "  I  thought  I  was  to  have  one 
child  left.  I  am  indeed  bereaved." 

"  Hush,  mother,"  cried  Helen.  "  I  will  not  leave 
you." 

"But  you  love  him?" 


400  THE   PROSPECTOR 

"  Yes,  yes.    With  all  my  heart." 

"  He  will  not  give  up  his  work  in  that  awful 
country  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  girl  proudly,  "  he  will  not,  not  even 
for  me.  But  he  will  love  me  always  and  I  will  love 
him,  and  that  is  enough  just  now." 

"  Helen,  listen  to  me.  You  will  never  marry  him 
with  my  consent,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  determinedly. 

"  And  he  would  never  marry  me  without,"  replied 
Helen. 
~   "What,  then,  is  your  future  to  be?" 

"Oh,  I  will  stay  with  you,  mother  darling." 

"  And  he?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Fairbanks. 

"He?  Oh,  I  don't  know,  but  he  will  always  love 
me,  mother." 

In  desperation  Mrs.  Fairbanks  sent  next  day  for 
Shock.  Her  one  hope  lay  in  his  fine  sense  of  honour, 
and  in  his  generosity. 

"  Mr.  Macgregor,"  she  said,  when  Shock  stood  be- 
fore her,  "  I  want  to  appeal  to  your  generosity.  You 
will  not  stand  in  the  way  of  my  daughter's  happi- 
ness?" 

"  Mrs.  Fairbanks,  I  thought  I  had  made  myself 
clear.  What  more  can  I  say  or  do?  " 

"  She  fancies  you  still  love  her.  Could  not  you  dis- 
abuse her  of  her  foolish  fancy  ?  " 

"  Tell  her  I  do  not  love  her?  "  asked  Shock.  "  That 
I  cannot  do.  It  would  be  false." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Macgregor,"  cried  Mrs.  Fairbanks, 
weeping,  "  if  you  force  my  child  from  me  I  will  die." 

Shock  was  greatly  disturbed  at  her  tears. 


THE   WAITING   GAME  401 

"Mrs.  Fairbanks,  I  could  never  force  your  daughter 
away  from  you,  but  I  shall  always  love  her.  Can  I  say 
more?  " 

"  I  have  told  her,"  said  Mrs.  Fairbanks  between  her 
sobs,  "  I  will  never  consent  to  her  marriage  with  you." 

Shock's  heart  gave  a  leap. 

"And  what  did  she  say?"  he  inquired  in  an  un- 
steady voice. 

"  She  said  you  would  not  marry  her  without  my 
consent." 

"  And  that  is  true,"  said  Shock. 

"  And  what,  then,  will  you  do  ?  *  inquired  Mrs. 
Fairbanks. 

Shock  threw  up  his  head,  with  joy  illumining  his 
face. 

"  I — we — "  changing  the  pronoun  with  a  sudden 
ecstasy  of  rapture,  "  we  can  wait." 

"  And  how  long,  pray?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Fairbanks, 
scornfully. 

"How  long?"  He  paused  as  if  pondering  the 
question.  "  Forever ! " 

"Shock!" 

He  turned  quickly.  There  at  the  door,  in  all  her 
glorious  beauty,  her  eyes  luminous  with  the  light  of 
love,  stood  Helen. 

"  Helen !  "  he  cried  aloud,  in  his  surprise.  "  You 
heard!  Can  you?  Can  we?  " 

With  a  movement  of  ineffable  grace  she  was  at  his 
side.  He  put  his  strong  arms  about  her.  She  looked 
into  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,  Shock,  we  can  wait — now." 


A  Million  and  a  Half  Sold  of 

RALPH  CONNOR'S  WORKS 


The  Doctor.     A  Tale  of  the  Rockies. 

so  5th  thousand.     12mo,          ...  1.60. 

"The  best  thing  Ralph  Connor  has  done  since  'The 
Sky  Pilot'  and  pehaps  the  best  that  he  has  ever  done. 
Here  he  is  at  his  strongest  and  best  in  drawing  rugged 
pictures  of  rough  but  true  men."—  N.  Y.  Times  Review* 

The  PrOSpeCtOr.  A  Tale  of  the  Crow's  Nest  Pass. 
I55th  Thousand.    12mo,          -  -          1.50. 

"A  novel  so  intense  that  one  grinds  his  teeth  less  his 
sinew  should  snap  ere  the  strain  is  released."  — 
Chicago  Tribune. 


The  Canyon  si  ->ry  from  "  The  Sky  Pilot  "  in 
Art  Gift  Book  Series,  beautifully  printed  in  two  colors 
•with  many  illustrations  and  marginal  etchings. 
X5th  thousand.    12mo,  art  cover,       -          -      net  .75. 

Glengarry  School  Days.  A  story  ofeariy 

days  in  Glengarry. 

Stfh  thousand.    12mo,  Illustrated,  Cloth,       -       1.25. 

"Gets  a  swing  of  incident  and  danger  that  keep  you 

tearing  away  at  the  pages  till  the  book  is  done.;'  — 

N.Y.Mail. 

The  Man  from  Glengarry.   ATaieof 

the  Ottawa,  zzoth  thousand.  12mo,  Cloth,  -  1.50 
"A  legitimate  successor  to  'The  Sky  Pilot'  and  'Black 
Rock,'  which  secured  him  swift  fame  that  leaps  to  the 
aiithor  who  strikes  a  new  and  effective  note."  —  The 
Literary  Digest. 

The  Sky  Pilot.    ATaleoftheFoothllls.     Illus- 
trated by  Louis  Rhead. 
Sioth  thousand.    12mo,  Cloth,  -          -          1.25. 


Ralph  Connor's  'Black  Rock'  was  good,  but  'The 
ky  Pilot'  is  better.    The  matter  which  he  gives  us  is 
real  life ;  virile,  true,  tender,  humorous,  pathetic,  spiri- 


Sky  Pilot'  is  better.    The  matter  which  he  gives  us  is 
real  life ;  virile,  true,  tender,  hum* 
tual,  wholesome."—  The  Outlook. 

Black  Rock.  ATaleoftheSelkirks.  Introduction 
by  George  Adam  Smith.  Illustrated  by  Louis  Rhead. 
55Cth  thousand.  12mo,  Cloth,  -  -  1.25. 

"  Ralph  Connor  has  gone  into  the  heart  of  the  North- 
vest  Canadian  mountains  and  has  painted  for  us  a 
picture  of  life  in  the  lumber  and  mining-camps  of  sur- 
passing merit."— St»  Louis  Globe  Democrat. 


